Hermione's Thirteen Reasons
by Annaleise Marie
Summary: It's been two weeks since that day, and Draco has recieved a parcel in the mail. The parcel contains her voice, and the chilling story that led to the end. It's too late for her, but can her thirteen learn from it? sex, violence, etc - full list inside
1. Prologue

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Summary**: A mash up of Jay Asher's hit novel and the HP series we all love. Hermione is dead, there is no doubt about that. But two weeks later, thirteen people will hear her voice again, over a grainy muggle device. Each of these people, she claims, is in some way responsible for her death. What they discover will change their lives forever.

**Prologue**: In the Post Office

**AN**: I recently read "TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY" by Jay Asher, and absolutely fell in love with it. Everything about it, the writing style, the plot, captivated me. Of course, as a fanfiction author, the idea to incorporate such a narrative into my favourite fandom popped into my head. Much of the original lines from Hannah Baker's narrative will be used. I mean no plagiarism by this, please understand that. So much of it just fit so well. This story was also originally written with Luna as the main character, but really, Hermione fit better in the grand scheme of things, although Luna was the more obvious choice at first. I may also post a version using Luna, if anyone is interested. Now, on to warnings.

This story will contain: mild language, violence, sexual themes, third-person subjective non-con (ie: witnessed, not experienced), and both canon and non-canon pairings. If you find any of these objectionable beyond tolerance, please do not proceed any further. For those of you still interested, welcome to my story. I hope you enjoy the ride.

/

"Sir?" the old man at the counter repeated. "How soon do you want it to get there?"

I blinked slowly, coming back out of my thoughts. The postmaster looked at me expectantly. I struggeled to focus on his question through the throbbing headache that had settled in the left side of my temple.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled. "It isn't going far. Just to the castle."

Just to the castle. I could have just used the owlery, I guess. Or my own owl. But I was sure that would be too recognizable. I didn't want anyone to know that I had ever touched that package. Anyone other than the twelve – well, thirteen others, really – who would have to know. If I were spotted in the owlery, someone may find out. That was why I had traipsed all the way to Hogsmeade this morning.

The clerk takes the package and weighs it carefully before hobbling over to one of the cages and taking out a small barn owl. I blinks and ruffles his feathers irritably in the bright light of the lobby. He secures the package, once more wrapped crudely in wrinkled parchment paper, exactly as I had received it. But now it was addressed to the next person on Hermione Granger's list.

I shake my head to clear the thoughts rushing through my mind once more.

"How much is it?" I ask. He tells me, and I pull a few coins from the pockets of my robes, setting them on the counter.

"Bit early in the morning, is it?" he rasps. I look at him questioningly and he gestures to the coins. "You're short a sickle."

I stare at the coins. So I was. I set another silver coin on the counter. I must be half asleep. That was okay. It might make today more bearable, actually.

"It should arrive tomorrow morning," the man says. "Mail only arrives once a day at the castle, isn't that right?"

I nod dully. Maybe I should have held onto the parcel for another day, to give Lavender another day of peace. Though she doesn't deserve it.

But who am I to judge?

When the owls arrive tomorrow, she'll find a package landing in front of her. And she'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? Did they forget, or was it intentional? Maybe a secret admirer?

Lavender would think it was a secret admirer. No one would hate Lavender.

They should.

"Would you like a receipt?" the clerk asks. I shake my head. The clerk had written one out already, probably out of force of habit, but now he crumples it in one gnarled hand and lets it fall into a wastepaper basket beside the counter.

This is the only post office near Hogwarts. I wonder if the others on the tape came here, or if they daringly stole up to the owelry, careful not to be seen by anyone who may make a connection; anyone who may recognize the package. Did they keep their receipts as sick souveniers? Tuck them in the bottoms of their school trunks? Pin them up on corkboards? Tuck them under their mattresses as a silent reminder of their dirty little secrets?

I almost ask for my receipt back. I almost say, "Sorry, can I have it after all?" As my own reminder.

But if I wanted a reminder, I would have found someone to make copies of the tapes, or saved her map. But I never wanted to hear those tapes again, though her voice will likely never leave my head. And this school, and the nearby town, the places mentioned, they would always be there to remind me.

My memories were tainted forever.

The package is on its way; I leave the post office without a receipt.

/

**Chapter One**: The Evening Before

A shoebox-sized package was sitting on my bed. It arrived with the post in the morning, a simple paper-wrapped, unremarkable package, marked with my name and nothing more. No return address, no hint of its origins remained. Only the hurriedly scrawled _Draco Malfoy_.

I took out my wand and mutter the spell to unseal the package, letting the paper fall away. It was a shoebox, after all. I took the top off to expose two rolls of some plastic-like material, filled with small pockets of air, I supposed to protect whatever was inside.

I unrolled the first one to expose a small black box, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was made of a hard plastic, and had a hinged door that opened less than an inch by hooking your finger into a slightly raised edge and pulling. Along the top were five thin buttons, marked with strange symbols: a triangle pointing to the right, two verticle rectangles, a square, so on, so forth. A thin wire ran from the box to what looked like a headband with two round cushions on the ends.

What _was _this thing?

I sat it down carefully, keeping an eye on it, I suppose in case it suddenly came to life and did something. I picked up the other roll of plastic and unfurled it, letting seven thinner rectangles fall to the bed. Each of these had two spindles in them that held a length of some sort of ribbon in place as it wound through the plastic. A piece of black tape was on each side of all seven rectangles, marked with blue numbers: one and two on the first, three and four on the second, all the way to thirteen. The second side, manufacturer marked "B" on the last tape, was not numbered.

I sat these down, as well, and looked in the box once more. There was a small folded piece of paper, and I opened it, hoping it held some sort of explanation. In neat, tidy writing, it read: _To start, open device, insert tape widest-edge up, and close. Press button marked with triangle and place headphones over ears to listen. If device does not work, the batteries may be dead. Find a muggleborn for replacements. Also, do not use magic while operating device. Magic interferes with muggle devices._

I seriously hoped that the "batteries" were not dead, as I had no desire to speak to a muggleborn.

I followed the directions, inserting the first tape as the note had instructed, and put on the "headphones". I glanced in the mirror and was intensely grateful that I had my private quarters this year, as a step of protection after the war, when many of us had returned for "eighth year". I looked stupid with this muggle device on my head.

I shook my head and pressed play. A faint whirring sound began through the headphones.

/

**AN**: Casting Draco as the one to listen to the tapes was a really difficult decision, as he doesn't match Clay very well. But, as with the Hermione vs. Luna decision, he fit better on more levels than most of the others that I had considered.

I hope you enjoyed this bit of an intro. The next chapter will be up soon! :D

Please review! It would mean so much to me!


	2. Cassette 1, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Two**: Cassette 1, Side A

**AN**: If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with me! With this chapter, we really start getting to the meat of the story. I hope you enjoy it!

/

_Hello. Hermione Granger, here._

I froze, unable to believe it.

_No questions, no interruptions, and this time, absolutely no guest-starring contributions._

I didn't believe it. Hermione Granger killed herself.

_I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, how my life ended. I suppose maybe some of you don't care. That's too bad, because if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why. _

What? No! I mean, I guess we didn't really get along, to put it mildly, but since the war there hadn't been as much animosity between us, and then that night...

_I'm not saying which tape brings you into the story, but fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up... I promise. And why tapes, in the wizard world? Why not a pensieve? That's pretty simple. Thirteen of you will receive these tapes, but there are a number of people mentioned that are irrelevant, and will not. If I used a pensieve, these people would lose their anonymity and become involved. But fear not, I used one in constructing these tapes, so everything is very accurate. _

_Scarily accurate._

Before Hermione died, she recorded a bunch of these tapes. But why?

_The rules are pretty simple. There are only two. Rule number one: You listen. Rule number two: You pass it on. Hopefully, neither one will be easy for you. _

_When you're done listening to all thirteen sides – because there are thirteen sides to every story – rewind the tapes. That's the two triangles pointing to the left on the player. Then, put them in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little tale. And you, lucky number thirteen, you can take the tapes straight to hell. _

_In case you're tempted to break the rules, understand that there _are _pensieves in existance to support these tapes. Those memories will be released in a very public manner if this package doesn't make it through all of you. _

_This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. _

_Do not take me for granted... Again._

Take her for granted? Was she mad? The whole of the wizarding world had fallen all over themselves to worship her as a great hero since the end of the war.

_You are being watched. _

I push a button, any random button, and the sound stops. I stomach is twisting. How could I be to blame for this? A few carelessly-thrown names through the years couldn't actually lead someone to do something like that, could they? And sure, there was the war, but a lot of people were involved in that, and it was over now. If she was going to kill herself over what happened then, why would she have fought so hard through it all? She wouldn't have just given up after all of that.

Were these tapes full of stories of Death Eaters? But then they couldn't be passed on, could they? Most of them were dead, or on the run now. So that wouldn't fit with the rules. She wouldn't make her rules impossible, would she?

I barely knew Granger. I had gone to school with her, interacted with her, maybe even tormented her for years, but I barely knew her. Something in me wanted to know her, but I couldn't let that happen. She was a muggleborn, with dirty blood. So that was the end of that.

Except for that one night...

But I never took her for granted. I was never in a position to be able to take her for granted. Not once. These tapes shouldn't have been there, not with me. It had to be a mistake.

Or a terrible joke.

I picked up the wrapping from the package once more. Although I had already checked it, I searched the wrapping again. A return address, or some clue as to who had sent it, had to be there somewhere. Maybe I just overlooked it.

Hermione Granger's suicide tapes are being passed around. Someone made a copy and sent them to me as a joke – or an extreme form of gossip. Tomorrow in the corridors, someone would laugh when they saw me, or they'd smirk and look away. And then I would know. And then? What would I do then?

I didn't know.

I hit the play button again.

_I almost forgot. If you're on my list, you should have received a map._

I let the wrapping fall back into the trash. I'm on the list. A few weeks ago, just days before Granger was found in the Head Girl's bathroom, someone slipped an envelope under my bedroom door. It hadn't come in the mail, so it was meant for me, and it was meant to be delivered quietly. The outside of the envelope said: SAVE THIS – YOU'LL NEED IT in red ink. Inside was a folded map of Hogwarts that changed as the castle did, day to day. About a dozen different stars marked different areas around the school.

I kept the map in my school bag. I meant to show it around school to see if anyone else got one. To see if anyone knew what it meant. But over time, it slid beneath my books and scrolls, and I forgot all about it.

Until now.

_Throughout the tapes, I'll be mentioning several spots around our beloved school for you to visit. I can't force you to go there, but if you'd like a little more insight, just head for the stars. Or, if you'd like, just throw the map away and I'll never know._

As Granger spoke through the headphones, I dug through my bag, finding the map at the bottom, slightly crumpled, but otherwise undamaged.

_Or maybe I will. I'm not actually sure how this whole dead thing works. Who knows, maybe I'm standing behind you right now. _

I sat down at the foot of my bed and leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees. I let my face fall into my hands and slid my fingers through my unexpectedly damp hair.

_Such a shame, I'm supposed to know everything, aren't I?_

_I'm sorry, that wasn't fair._

Sure it was. She was quite the know-it-all, after all.

_Are you ready, Viktor?_

Viktor Krum. That Bulgarian Quidditch champion from Durmstrang who competed against Potter in the Triwizard Tournament. He was Hermione's first kiss, first boyfriend of sorts.

But why did I know that?

_Viktor, honey, you were my very first kiss. My first hand to hold. But you were nothing more than an average guy. To the world, you were a champion athlete, a brilliant enough wizard to become a top contender in the Triwizard Tournament, an idol. But let's be honest, dear, you were really quite average as a person. And I don't mean that to be mean. There was just something about you that made me need you; need to be your girlfriend, to be by your side. I don't know what it was, but it was incredibly strong. _

_I first saw you at the World Cup, the summer before my fourth year. The summer that I turned fourteen. I never told you, but that was the moment I became captivated by you. And then you came to Hogwarts for the tournament, and my attraction grew stronger. But I could not stand the other girls, and the way that they constantly fawned all over you, and so I refused to become one of them. And so I kept to my business, refusing to stray from the norm, though I wanted to see you. _

_There was a girl who frequented the library, like myself. We were friendly, I suppose, but we were not friends. Her name is not important. But she fancied another bloke from Durmstrang, and before I knew it, he was at our table every day, and more often than not, I was the only one at the table studying up on school subjects, although I suppose she was learning quite a lot. _

_And then one day you came along, and you distracted me to the point that it was almost ridiculous, but every day I still came back, and on the days that you did not show, I found myself increasingly disappointed. _

_I imagine most of you are thinking that a fourteen-year-old's crush has no relevance. But does it?_

_For me, yes, it does. I went back as far as you to find an introduction to my story. And this really is where it begins. _

So where was I on this list, among these stories? Second? Third? Did it get worse as it went along? She said lucky number thirteen could take the tapes to hell.

_When you reach the end of these tapes, Viktor, I hope you'll understand your role in all of this. Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters._

_Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings. _

_I know you didn't mean to let me down. In fact, most of you listening probably had no idea what you were doing – what you were truly doing. _

What was I doing, Granger? Because I honestly had no idea. That night... If it's the night I was thinking of, was just as strange for me as it was for you. Maybe more so, since I still had no idea what the hell happened.

_Our first red star can be found just outside of the entrance hall, through the front doors on a path that leads to the greenhouses. You'll remember that the Durmstrang ship was not far from this path, just as far as the edge of the lake. When you're done with this tape, you should go there. _

_One of you listening will be very angry about these maps, as I duplicated yours without permission. But don't worry, these are poor substitutes, and they will disintegrate after three months is up. I figure the tapes will have reached the end of their journey by then. _

_Moving on. This path was where I would meet Viktor those crisp fall days. Herbology was my last class of the day, and none of my friends were in the class with me, as my schedule had been shuffled from all of my extra classes. _

_There's a set of stone benches, overgrown now with roses, but back then they were cleared, the shrubs trimmed back and neat. Viktor and I would sit at these benches and talk – and I do mean talk – most evenings, until I had missed dinner and it was growing too dark to see anything but the lights from the castle over us, and those of the ship in the distance. _

_I began to think that it would be nice to kiss Viktor, in the dim light of dusk, with the crisp scent of autumn leaves and everbloom roses enclosing us. I thought it would be nice to put my hand in his and lean in a bit, and stare into his eyes for a moment, and then our eyes would flutter shut and gently, very gently, our lips would meet, if only for a moment._

I stopped the tape again. I needed to think. Why was I listening to this? Why not just throw the whole lot in the trash? I swallowed hard. I knew the answer.

Because it was Granger's voice. And although we weren't close, it was a voice that would never be heard again. It seemed a bit wrong to just throw something like that in the garbage.

And, of course, the rules. I looked at the shoebox sitting beside me, and quickly stowed it under the bed. Granger said that she made a copy of the tapes. But what if she didn't? Maybe if the tapes stop, it's over, nothing happens.

But what if there was something on the tapes that could hurt me? What if it's not a trick? Then a second set of tapes would be released. That's what she said. Then everyone would hear what's on them. And my reputation couldn't exactly take another blow. There were already threats on my life for what had happened during the war.

Who's willing to call her bluff?

I pressed play.

_After a few days of daydreaming about this, and waiting for you to do it, I decided to take the initiative. No one ever got anything by just waiting, did they? So I borrowed some makeup from one of the girls that I roomed with, and did my best to tame my hair. And then, after Herbology that evening, I loosened my tie and undid the first two buttons on my shirt. _

_I know what you're thinking, Hermione Granger is a slag._

_Oh, did you catch that? Hermione Granger _is... _I can't say that anymore, can I? _

Her voice was light. A poor joke, Granger.

But she'd stopped talking. The steady whirring let me know that the tape was still rolling, and I found the dial that read "Volume" and turned it until it stopped. The whirring grew louder, more insistant, but still no Granger. Was that it? Was that the end?

That couldn't be the end.

_Wrong._

Granger's voice was loud, and I jumped and quickly turned the volume back down. Her voice was angry, almost trembling.

_Hermione Granger is not, and never was, a slag. Which begs the question: What have you heard? _

_I only wanted a kiss. I was a fourteen-year-old girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked a boy, and I was pretty sure he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story – the whole story – right there. _

What was the other story? Because I remembered hearing something. But I couldn't remember what. It had been so long ago, and Granger was so... inconsequential, for lack of a better term.

It hit me suddenly. Granger had let Krum open her shirt, and slide his hands under her bra. That was what I had heard. It was almost ridiculous, how scandalous that had seemed in fourth year, but that was what all the girls were saying. That's how someone like Granger had bagged someone like Krum.

But why would she let him even partially undress her outside, by the path that ran between the castle and the greenhouses, where anyone could happen upon them? The castle was _full_ of excellent hiding places, perfect for a secret tryst or a bit of heavy petting, but that was not one of them, and Granger didn't seem like the type to take the chance of being caught in the act like that.

But again, it was Granger, and I didn't care enough to think that far back then.

_I got to our bench first that day, and most days, actually, because Durmstrang's classes ran about a half hour later than ours, but also because I was excited and I hurried. I sat on our bench and let my head fall back, inhaling the thick perfumed air, and I thought that even if I didn't work up the nerve to kiss you, being with you in a place such as that would be just as nice. _

_But I still did want my first kiss. _

_And then I knew you were there, and I knew that I would be able to kiss you that day, because I could smell you with the roses, and although it made my heart leap, my stomach no longer twisted in knots, and I was comfortable still, even knowing you were watching me._

It definitely beat my first kiss. Pansy Parkinson had taken the cushion next to me on the couch as I sat writing my Potions essay in the common room, sidling up to me and pressing her breasts against my arm, annoying me because it broke my focus, and then exciting me because that was the closest I had ever been to touching a girl's breasts. And then she smirked at me, her heavily-glossed lips twisting over startlingly white teeth, and she leaned in and pressed those shining lips to mine.

I didn't know what to do, and three strawberry-scented seconds later she pulled away, and skipped back to the stairs to the girl's dorms where two of her friends each gave her a galleon. My first kiss had been a bet. It was probably bad, but it still didn't stop the raging hard-on that I had sported for the rest of the day, until I had finally sought refuge behind the hangings of my bed after my roommates had gone to sleep.

_I couldn't help smiling as I looked up and saw you standing there, and you smiled back before sitting beside me, maybe a bit closer than you normally did. Maybe you sensed what was about to happen. Maybe you were planning it, as well. And you took my hand in yours, so gently._

_So when did you decide to kiss me, Viktor? Was it as you walked to meet me that day? Or was it when you took my hand, and looked into my eyes as you did in my daydreams? Had you been planning it, or did it simply happen?_

_I had been so anxious about what type of kiss it would be – because the girls I roomed with had described so many kinds – _

Probably bluffing, I figured, thinking of the Gryffindor girls in our year. I was pretty sure that the Weasel was Lavender Brown's first kiss, and Parvati Patel was pretty but a bit awkward around boys until our sixth year. I didn't know much about the others, but by looking at them I would guess similar stories.

–_And it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn't shove your tongue down my throat, you didn't try to grab my butt, you just held my hand, and gently touched my cheek with the other, and we kissed._

_And that's it. Yeah, that's right, that was _it_. That... is... all... that... happened._

_Why, did you hear something else?_

A shiver ran up my spine. Yes, I did. We all did.

_Well, you're right. Something did happen. Viktor squeezed my hand gently, and he led me towards the lake, and we walked around the edge for a bit, and we kissed again in the very same way. _

_Then? And then, Hermione? What happened then?_

_Then... we left. He went to the ship, and I went back to the castle._

_Oh, I'm sorry, you wanted something a bit randier, didn't you? You wanted to hear how my itchy little fingers started playing with his zipper. You wanted to hear..._

_Well, what did you want to hear? Because I've heard so many stories that I don't know which is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular: the truth._

_Now, the truth is the one that you won't forget._

I can still see the girls huddled up in the corridor as Granger walked by, the exaggerated whispers and then pointed silence as she passed, and then the shrill giggles. I can still see Krum walking after her, hearing the girls' stories as they were too preoccupied to notice him after her, but not correcting them. That was why most of us thought it was true.

But also, Granger was sort of quiet, and most people didn't know much about her, other than the fact that she was insanely smart. So people didn't have any real evidence against the claims.

_So thank you, Viktor. Sincerely. My very first kiss was wonderful. And for the months that we dated, all of the kisses were wonderful. You were wonderful._

_But you allowed them to spread those stories. You heard them, knew what was being said, and still you did not correct them. And everyone knows that you can't disprove a rumour._

_I know, I know what you're thinking. As I was telling the story, I was thinking the same thing to myself. A kiss? A rumour based on a kiss made you do this to yourself? _

_No. A rumour based on a kiss ruined a memory that I hoped would be special. A rumour based on a kiss started a reputation that other people believed and reacted to. Even my best friend accused me of sleeping with the enemy. And sometimes, a rumour based on a kiss has a snowball effect. _

_A rumour, based on a kiss, is just the beginning. _

_Turn the tape over for more. _

My finger hovered over the stop button, but then Granger started speaking again.

_And Krum, honey, stick around. You're not going to believe where your name pops up next. _

My finger still hovered over the button as I listened to the soft hum in the headphones, the faint squeak and whir of the take, waiting for her voice to return.

But it didn't. That story was over.

/

**AN**: Each chapter will contain a story, like the original "TH1RTEEN R3ASONS". Stick around!

Please review! I look forward to hearing from you! :D


	3. Cassette 1, Side B

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Three**: Cassette 1, Side B

**AN**: I was really, really happy with the response to this story, and I was actually really surprised to see how many people in this fandom loved the original "TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY" by Jay Asher, and were interested in the mash-up. I was a little worried about how that may be received. Haha.

Special thanks to **love-them-all10**, **Noodles2**, **DramioneLover123**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, and **camou-191** for reviewing! I loved hearing your thoughts, and your excitement made me even more excited about this story!

/

_Welcome back, and thanks for hanging out for part two. _

I was hiding now, and it occurred to me that I wish that I could hide from her voice, from this reality that I'd plummeted into, but I couldn't. All I could do is hide behind the everbloom roses, the overgrown stone benches where this all started, and listen to her voice recount her tales, because now that I'd started the idea of stopping is unbearable.

I turned the volume down so that Granger's voice is only a whisper, careful that I could still hear if someone approaches the bushes.

_If you're listening to this, one of two things has just happened. Maybe you're Viktor, and after hearing your little tale you want to hear what's next. Or maybe you're someone else and you're waiting to see if it's you. _

_Well..._

A line of hot sweat rose along my hairline. Was I next? Krum's story wasn't so bad. If I was next, maybe it would just be a story of how I had tormented her, called her "Mudblood" or that time I cursed her teeth to grow. That would be okay, I guessed. I could pass that off as an ignorant child trying to be the biggest bully on the playground. Relatively innocent, maybe inexcusable, but nothing too bad.

_Rita Skeeter, it's your turn._

Rita Skeeter? Wasn't that—

_I bet you're thinking that this is risky, isn't it? That if these tapes go to Miss Skeeter, that they will stop there, won't they? Especially because I'm not here to expose _her _secret anymore. And don't worry, Rita dear, I'm not going to tell. That was our deal, wasn't it? _

_And since you held up you're end of the bargain, I bet you're wondering why you're on here, aren't you? You probably think that since you've upheld that deal, that you're safe, right? You stopped writing about me, after all. So now that I can't do anything about it, you're probably salivating, because here it is, the biggest scoop of the year, delivered right to your doorstep. What luck!_

_But no, my dear, you'll never tell._

_But what did you do, you must be wondering. How could I be angry about what you did, when it was resolved? _

_Because, Miss Skeeter, you of all people should know that these things don't just go away. There's always someone waiting to dig it back up. _

_Listen._

I shifted to rest my back against the one thorn-free bit of the stone bench. The air was fragrant, and I wished that it was dark, because it seemed too beautiful out here for this. Why had I left my room? Something had compelled me to come out here, to the first star, and I couldn't help it. And for a moment I saw her, with her wild hair tamed for the moment, the light makeup that most girls wouldn't leave their room without setting off her features like a beacon in the autumn sun, the top two buttons of her shirt opened to expose the hollow of her throat and the slightest bit of collarbone.

And then she smiled, and then she was gone, and I had settled in to listen to the next tape.

_First, Rita, if you think I'm being silly – if you think I'm some stupid little girl who gets her kickers in a twist over the smallest things, taking everything way too seriously, no one's making you listen. Sure, I am pressuring you with that set of memories, but who cares if people around the wizarding world know what you did? I mean, it was published, after all. Your dirty little secret isn't so secret after all. _

At the castle, students were finishing up their dinner. Blaise, the only person left at Hogwarts who I may still count as a friend, might have been wondering why I never showed. The smell of treacle wafted from a low window, which I suppose belonged to the kitchen, and drifted over the grounds, almost choked out by the smell of roses.

For those finishing their meals, everything is normal.

_I can name a whole list of people who would care. I can name a list of people who would care very much if those memories got out. And I don't think they would be very forgiving with you, given your track record with some of them. That's why I'm not worried about you leaking this story. _

_So let's begin, shall we?_

The bench cut into the muscles below my shoulder blades, and I leaned forward, curling my arms around my knees and resting my chin on them, staring out towards the lake.

_I remember the day your story came out, the one about Viktor and I, and Harry and I, and my "taste for famous wizards". It was in the midst of the Triwizard Tournament, and I wish that I could say that people had bigger things to worry about. But people love a story such as that, don't they. Gossip is like Jell-o. There's always room for Jell-o. _

_I read your article at breakfast, and so did a lot of other people. I had barely finished it, and I could hear the whispers starting, feel their stares. But when I would look around, the whispers in that direction would stop, their eyes would drop to their eggs and their pumpkin juice. But I saw the copies of the paper changing hands, the eager, hungry eyes skimming the article, the giggles and the glares. I __still saw all of that. _

_And someone scoffed, and I heard her whisper, "But you _know _she must be shagging them. That's the only way that someone like _her _could get either of them. Besides, Lauren said so." _

I hold back a groan. She would have heard that. Many people took Rita Skeeter's writing with a grain of salt, but she would have heard the one person who believed it.

_So I decided to face it head-on, and showed Harry and Ron the article, as well as explained how stupid it was, and how it didn't get to me. _

_But it did, Rita. Because now there was a "reliable source", complete with a picture, to back up the stories that had begun when I had kissed Viktor. _

When I saw the article, so many years ago, I thought it was pretty funny. Granger was making quite the name for herself that year. She never showed that it bothered her, so it never occurred to me that it might. And really, it wasn't that much of a stretch to believe it that she may have dated both, although dating them at the same time seemed like a bit of a stretch for someone as uptight at Granger.

Now, of course, I know that that name was only a product of jealous people's imaginations.

_Pretending it didn't bother me worked for awhile, but let me tell you, when anything about you is made public knowledge, true or not, it becomes public domain, and suddenly everyone had the right to an opinion and their own version of the story. Even if it had as little basis in truth as your original article, Rita. _

_And a lot of them were very angry about this new development in the supposed personal life of Hermione Granger. Everywhere I went, whispers followed me. I was called the worst names, and the girls who were shallow enough to "love" Viktor or Harry only for their name, made it their personal business to torment me. _

_But this tape is not about all of those girls, or even about your original article, Miss Skeeter. That part is pretty straight-forward. This tape is about how people change when they see your name in a stupid article. This tape is about..._

Granger paused. I turned the volume up, and I can hear her rustling a piece of parchment, smoothing it out.

_Okay. I just looked over every name – every story – that completes these tapes. And guess what. Every single event documented here may never have happened if you, Rita, had not written that article. It's that simple. _

_You needed someone to make your stories more sensational, more marketable, and let's be honest – you had exhausted Harry's story, hadn't you? So you targeted the people closest to him. And since I _was _seeing Viktor, and my reputation had taken a turn for the worst because of the catty girls I went to school with, I was the perfect choice, wasn't I? _

_And the snowball kept rolling, kept growing. Thanks, Rita dear. _

No one could have taken Skeeter's article that seriously, could they? Everyone knew that anything she wrote was only half-researched, and only a tenth truth. How could they have ran with this one story? But how could they have known how strongly it would have affected her?

She never showed it. Never.

And what about me? What had I done? How would Granger say that I scarred her? And after people hear about it, what would they going to think when they see me? Some of them, at least two of them, already knew why I was on here. Did they see me differently now?

Could it possibly be worse than how the wizarding world already sees me?

No. Because my name did not belong with theirs. I bullied her, sure, but everyone already knew I was an arrogant prat, so it didn't affect how people saw her. I shouldn't be on this list, I was sure of it.

_So to back up a bit, this tape is about the repercussions of your article. More specifically, the repercussions to me. It's about those things that you didn't plan – things you couldn't plan. _

_The day your article came out wasn't too traumatic. I survived. I knew it wasn't true. And the people I saw standing in the corridors, huddled around whoever had a copy, they should know that it was a lie, as well. Well, most of them, anyway. Just one big, fat lie tailored for gullible people who will eat it up. _

_That's all you write, after all, isn't it? That's how you made your name. _

_But as I said, when you make someone's supposed personal business a public matter, it gives the public the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Need an example? Fine. _

_The second star on your map is the astronomy tower. _

I could go there. I'd have to pause the tape and hide it again, careful not to be seen with it, but I could go there. It's rarely crowded and even usually abandoned during the daylight hours.

_As I mentioned before, I had a rather full schedule, so I would often go up to the tower at night, to catch up on my work. Astronomy was relatively simple for me, so I would put it off to do on my own time, and devote my class time to more difficult subjects. _

_Most of the time, I was alone. Just me, my telescope, and my charts. Most students preferred to do their work from the books, but I preferred to take the more hands-on approach, because there are some things about astronomy that just cannot be predicted. _

I paused the tape and stuck it in the pocket of my robes, standing and brushing the dirt from them before venturing out from behind the bushes. As I stepped out onto the path I spotted Neville Longbottom emerging from the greenhouse nearest me. He hadn't returned for eighth year, like many students, but he had come back to apprentice under Professor Sprout to become an herbologist. He didn't seem at all interested in the large plant that was wriggling in his arms, snapping at his dragon-hide covered hands, however, and was instead staring at me with mild interest.

"What are you doing there, Malfoy?" he called. The war had made him much to bold, and if he thought that being on the winning side would make me bow my head to him, he was very much mistaking.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Longbottom," I called back, turning away and starting back towards the castle.

"Ten points from Slytherin," he shouted after me. I shrugged. That he now had the power to deduct points made him nothing more than a bigger pain in my arse.

I made it up to the astronomy tower with no more hold-ups, people giving me a wide berth out of either fear or disgust. There were plenty of them who felt that I shouldn't have been allowed to return for eighth year, but with the Malfoy name being mud now, I pretty much had to finish school.

The tower was empty, with only a few forgotten quills scattered from the class before. I took out the tape player and put the headphones back on, pressing play. Granger's voice started immediately, as though she had been waiting for the opportunity to continue.

Of course, this was pre-recorded, and she wasn't waiting. She wasn't waiting for anything anymore.

_At the bottom of the windowsill in the tower, the stones are singed. It's actually a pretty good story, how that came to be, but that's for another time. For now, we'll use it as a marker. I was standing right in front of that spot on this night, finishing a chart. _

I could see her, her brow furrowed in concentration as she furiously scrawled in the missing places on the chart. She always had that look when it came to her schoolwork, and I had seen it many times, although we all knew that it came easy to her.

She filled in the last spot and then smiled, setting her quill down and lifting her face to the sky. And then she was gone, once more. I walked up to the window, stood where she stood, and looked out across the grounds.

_I get absorbed in my work, and it's all that I can focus on. But I did hear the door open that night. I reasoned that it was a student coming to finish their work, as well, or to reclaim an item that was forgotten, left to be gathered against the wall and left to wait for their owners return. I did not immediately turn from the window. _

_If I wanted to, I could tell you the name of the person who had entered the tower as I worked. I do remember. I don't think I would forget if I lived for another one hundred years. But he was just one of the many jerks that I have encountered over the years. _

_I don't know, maybe I should expose all of them. But as far as your story goes, Rita, his actions – his horrible, disgusting actions – were just an aftereffect of yours. _

_Plus, he's got a whole tape to himself..._

I winced. What happened in this tower because of Rita's article?

I didn't want to know. I didn't want to want to know what happened, or see another article by that woman. Merlin, who else is involved in this?

_So now I was not alone in the astronomy tower. _

"_Oh, Granger, hey," he said, which took me by surprise. I was not going to talk to him, but only continue my work, for when I glanced him out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was not one of my friends, or even a friendly acquaintance. "I didn't see you there."_

_Did I mention that I was right in front of the window, where even in the dark tower I was silhouetted against the light of the moon and the stars, visible to anyone who came through the door?_

_But I gave him a small smile, not wanting to seem rude, and nodded in acknowledgment before going back to my work. _

_And then his arms were blocking me in place, his hands pressed against that singed windowsill on either side of me. _

I ran my palm over the singed blocks, a bit of soot rubbing off onto my skin. He would have been marked from that, at least for a while. Would he be reminded of it every time he saw it on his hands? And now, or later when he heard these tapes, would he ever be able to look at his hands without seeing the soot?

_He said something to me, but I couldn't focus on the words because he was so close; too close. I moved closer to the window, but he only moved closer when I did. _

I could picture a lot of the guys in this school doing that. Mainly Slytherins, loathe as I am to say it.

_And then he said it, the sentence that stuck with me. _

"_What, you're only interested if a bloke's name is a household term?" His voice was joking, but I doubt that he actually was. _

_That's right, Rita, your article finally reared its ugly head. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached slowly for my wand. His breath was hot on my ear. I didn't have much room to move, but I managed to turn and disarm him. His own wand flew from his pocket and landed on one side of the room, and he landed on the other._

_But disarming isn't really that harsh of a spell, and I was only halfway to the door when he was back on his feet, and catching up to me. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around. _

_He said my name, and when I looked into his eyes any trace of joking was gone. I tried to yank my arm away, but his grip was too tight. _

I turned from the window and glanced towards the door. That was where it had happened, and I now I knew who it was. I had seen it, that wrist-grabbing move before. It always made me want to grab him by the shirt and fling him away from the girl.

Because make no mistake, I'm a right git, but I don't stand for abuse of women.

_Then he let go and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm only playing, Hermione. Just relax."_

_Okay. Let's look at what just happened, bit by bit. I thought about it the entire way back to the Gryffindor common room._

_First, his words – then his actions._

_Statement number one: "I'm only playing, Hermione."_

_Translation: "You are my plaything and my current object of amusement. You may think that you should have a say in what happens to you, but you don't, at least not as long as 'I'm only playing'."_

_Statement number two: "Just relax."_

_Translation: "Come on, Hermione, all I did was touch you with no indication that you wanted me to touch you. If it makes you feel any better, go ahead, you can touch me any way you like."_

_Now let's talk about his actions, shall we?_

_Actions number one: Trapping me against the windowsill._

_Interpretation: Let me back up and say that this boy had _never _touched me before, or been in any situation to lead him to believe that he was welcome to touch me. So why now? I looked the same as always, and I hadn't arranged to meet him in a deserted tower – I was there to do my work. _

I was starting to understand a bit more. I was starting to see what Granger meant. And that opened a black hole in the pit of my stomach.

_Am I saying that your article gave him permission to treat me like a slag? No. I'm saying that it gave him an excuse. You represented me as a slag, and you that made it okay for this boy to treat me like a slag. An excuse was all he needed, and you handed it to him._

_Action number two: He grabbed my wrist and then put his hand on my shoulder._

_You know, I'm not even going to interpret this. I'm just going to tell you why it made me angry. I've had people invade my space before. It's inevitable if you live amongst other people for any period of time. But this time he touched me, and disrespected my right to personal space based on something someone that didn't even know me wrote in the newspaper because of who I was dating and who I was friends with. And when this boy saw I was upset, did he apologize or back off? No, he got aggressive. Then, in the most condescending way, he told me to relax. Then he put his hand on my shoulder, as if by touching me he'd somehow comfort me. _

_Here's a tip: If you touch a girl, even as a joke, and she pushes you off, leave... her... alone. Don't touch her. Anywhere! Just stop. Your touch does nothing but sicken her._

_There are some sick and twisted people out there, Rita. And maybe I'm one of them, in my own way. But the point is, when you hold people up for ridicule, you have to take responsibility when other people act on it. _

_Actually, that's not right. You didn't hold me up for ridicule, did you? You just wanted to sell papers. You just wanted to be the one with the breaking story, the news on everyone's lips. But still, this is where our snowball picks up speed. Because that wasn't the end of what you caused. Or the worst of it._

_Ginny, my dear... you're next._

I stopped the tape, opening the player and removing it to switch it out with one of the others in my pocket. Ginny Weasley was next. It was strange. Admittedly, as I'd already said, I wasn't close with any of them. We were actually closer to enemies. But the Weaslette and Granger had always seemed like good friends, especially as the years went on, and definitely by fourth year.

I placed the tape with the blue number three in the player and snapped the door shut. I didn't allow much time to think about it, because these stories were getting worse as they went on, and if I had thought about it, I wouldn't have continued. I just pressed play.

/

**AN**: This story was a bit harder to adapt than the last, mainly because I don't want to completely make things up out of the clear blue sky – I want to incorporate canon events, at least up until the last few stories, and as far as I know, Rita's articles were the only scandalous things ever written about Hermione. The story in Jay Asher's novel was about a "Who's Hot/ Who's Not" list, in which Hannah was voted "Best Ass in the Freshman Class". So you see, it took a little tweaking. Haha. I think it worked out pretty well, though, and I'm excited to hear what you guys think, especially those of you who read Jay Asher's novel.

So please review! You seriously have no idea how happy it makes me! :D

See you guys next chapter!


	4. Cassette 2, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Four**: Cassette 2, Side A

**AN**: Since I'm mostly adapting a story, this is being written pretty quickly, which is why I'm uploading two chapters at a time. I also don't know if I'll be able to post tomorrow, or if I'll have to wait until Sunday, so I wanted to make up for that. :D Enjoy!

/

Before Granger's voice returned, there was a pause. I wondered if she was having trouble starting this story. If she and Ginny had been good friends, maybe it was a hard one for her to tell.

_Step-by-step. That's how we'll get through this. One foot in front of the other. _

Through the window of the astronomy tower, the sun is starting to set.

_We've finally finished one tape – both sides – so stick with me. Things get better, or worse, depending on your point of view. _

_I wasn't completely alone in fourth year, even though Harry was busy with the tournament and I was torn between him and Ron, as they were fighting for much of the year. One other student, featured here on Hermione Granger's Greatest Hits, stood by me through the whispers and rumours surrounding my relationship with Viktor. _

_Ginny Weasley, come on down. _

_Ginny and I were never close friends, no matter how it may have seemed. She was my best friend's little sister, and eventually my other best friend's girlfriend, but we were more friendly by association. We had no grudge against each other, and eventually we fought alongside each other. We trusted each other. But we were not best friends._

_We did rely on each other, as acquaintances and confidants, especially that year. _

_We would meet most often in Hogsmeade, every time we were allowed to visit on the weekend. We would sit at the Three Broomsticks, and talk about how our lives had been going over the last however many weeks it had been since the last visit. _

_And the Three Broomsticks is star number three on your map. If you go there, sit at the table in the back far right corner. That was our table._

_If one of us had had a particularly rough time, we would put our hand in the center of the table, and that was the signal that it was our turn to vent, to let it all out._

I stopped the tape. Luckily, because all of the eighth year students were of age, we were allowed to leave the school grounds when we wanted, although it was a condition of staying at the castle that we attended classes. It was getting dark, curfew drawing nearer, but I had made up my mind to go to the Three Broomsticks, to sit at that table, and hear Granger out.

I tucked the tape player into my robes once more and descended the long winding staircase from the tower. The corridor at the bottom was abandoned, and I moved purposely towards the changing staircases that would take me to the Great Hall, and from there to the grounds and the winding road that led to Hogsmeade.

I met no one on the way, most students in their common rooms by this hour, but prefect rounds had not yet started.

It wasn't long before I found myself in Hogsmeade. I had developed tunnel vision, my eyes focused solely on my destination.

A few passers-by take notice of me as I head for the Three Broomsticks. I can only imagine how I must look to them. Confused. Guilty. Anxious.

I stop in front of the pub, staring through the fogging glass. I can see her table from here, vacant in the later hour. Madam Rosmerta tapped her way around the bar, filling the glasses of the few patrons scattered throughout the large room.

I opened the door, welcomed in from the chilly night by a warm gust of air. I hurried to that table, not making eyecontact with anyone there. I didn't immediately take out the tape player, because Madam Rosmerta was heading for my table to take my order, although she didn't seem excited about waiting on the infamous Draco Malfoy.

That was almost expected these days. I ignored it.

I ordered a coffee, deciding that anything more might be too heavy on my stomach while I listened to those tapes, and once she had set the steaming mug of bitter liquid down and hurried away once more, I took out the tape player and replaced the headphones over my years, pressing play and then sitting the player in my lap to hide it from view.

There was a loud squeal, and I jumped, resisting the urge to rip the headphones off.

_You're listening to this around magic, aren't you? If you're sitting in the Three Broomsticks, that sound is inevitable. Bear with it, and try to pause the tape any time you see someone pick up their wand. _

_Now, on to your story, Ginny dear. _

_I've already told you why we're here, and why we met. What's important to understand is that towards the end of the year, around the time of the second task, just before Rita Skeeter's article came out, we weren't meeting up so much anymore. I would still come here every Hogsmeade weekend, but Ginny would rarely show. And then, after a month or so, I stopped going. And then the article came out._

_Now that we've established a bit of a timeline, let's get to it, shall we?_

_See, the cool thing about Ginny's story is that so much of it happened in one spot, making life much easier for those of you following the stars. _

_Yes, I had known Ginny for a long time as Ron's little sister, but we got to know each other at the Three Broomsticks. And then this happened._

_Between classes one day – it was between Potions and Arithmancy for me – Ginny walked up to me in the corridor. "We need to talk," was all that she said. She didn't say where or why, but I knew she meant the Three Broomsticks, and there was a Hogsmeade visit that weekend... and truth be told, I thought I knew why. _

_When I got there, Ginny was sitting slumped in a chair, arms dangling by her sides as though she'd been waiting for a long time. And maybe she had. Maybe she had hoped that I would have left with the earlier group to meet up with her first thing that morning. _

_So I sat down and slid my hand to the middle of the table. She stared at it for a second, and then she slapped a newspaper clipping onto the table. She pushed it across and spun it around for me to read. But I didn't need it spun around, because since the first time I read that article, I knew I would recognize it forever. _

_I knew what the article said, practically word-for-word, and I knew why the girl sitting across from me would be upset by it. _

"_Ginny," I told her, keeping my voice calm and sure. "You know it doesn't mean anything."_

Things were starting to click into place. Everyone knew that the Weaselette had been in love with Potter since the beginning of time, and no one would know that better than Granger, if her story was any indication.

"_Hermione," she said. "I don't care that he picked you over me."_

_But he didn't. And you did. And both of us at that table, both of us knew the truth. But you were too blinded by anger to acknowledge it. I knew then exactly where that conversation was headed and I wasn't going to let it take us there._

I hadn't realized how much trouble one article would cause. If any of us had...

Well, I couldn't pretend that that would stop it. Because we were stupid, and fourteen, and too hard-wired into the rumour mill to care, or even consider any lasting effects.

"_He did not choose me over you, Ginny," I said. "Rita Skeeter wrote that to cause trouble, to sell papers, and my name was most convenient."_

_She closed her eyes and said my name in almost a whisper. "Hermione."_

_Do you remember that, Ginny? Because I do._

_When someone says your name like that, when they won't even look you in the eyes, there is nothing more that you can do or say. Their mind is made up._

"_Hermione," you said. "I know the rumours."_

"_You can't know rumours," I said. And maybe I was being a little sensitive, but I had hoped – silly me – that there would be no stock held in rumours when it came to you. To you, to the Weasleys, to Harry. I could ignore them if you would all just have faith in me. "You can hear rumours," I said, "but you can't know them."_

_Again you said my name. "Hermione."_

_Yes, I knew the rumours. And I swore to you that there was nothing more between Harry and me than there ever had been, that we were just friends, and that this whole thing had gotten twisted around, but that it wasn't true. But you wouldn't believe me._

_And why should you believe me? Why would anyone not believe a rumour that fit so nicely with an old rumour? Huh, Viktor? Why? _

Ginny could have heard so many rumours about Harry and Hermione. But none of them were true.

_For Ginny, it was easier to think of me as Evil Hermione than as the Hermione she had gotten to know at the Three Broomsticks – as just Hermione, not her brother's friend, or a third of the Golden Trio. It was easier to accept. Easier to understand. _

_For her, the rumours needed to be true. _

I remember everyone giving Potter a lot of flack for shagging Granger. And I'll admit, I found it hilarious. Of course now, with a behind-the-scenes seat, with being so aware of the end result, it's not so funny anymore. But it's too late for that, now.

"_Fine," I said. "Fine, Ginny. Thank you for listening to me, and talking things over with me this year, and for being so nice to me the past few years as your brother's friend. It meant a lot. And I'm sorry that Skeeter screwed that up with this stupid article of hers, but she did." _

_I told her that I knew how she felt about Harry. She had always been in love with Harry. And he and I had never felt that way about each other. If it helped her feel better, I accepted any blame that she wanted to place on me for the two of them not getting together by that point. But... it... was... not... true!_

I spot a wizard at the bar picking up his wand and I quickly turn off the tape player as he starts his bit of magic. I take a sip of coffee and think about what I'd heard. The Weasel and Potter were on poor terms, at least part of the year. The school was shunning Granger, and all that she had left was Ginny. And then Ginny turns on her. She must have felt completely alone. But then why didn't this happen sooner, if that was the problem?

Because that was all temporary, and someone as smart as Granger would have realized that. And also, the Dark Lord returned at the end of the war, and Granger once more had something to fight for, and people to stand beside. Things had gotten better.

But then how had it gotten so bad, so fast, once more?

The wizard at the bar pockets his wand once more, and I hit play, taking another drink of my coffee.

_But all Ginny heard was me accepting blame, and admitting to truth in it. _

_She rose up beside her chair – glaring down at me – and swung._

_I have to admit, I was surprised. I didn't expect violence from Ginny, but aside from that, she is very skilled in hexes, so it was even further from my mind that she might physically hit me. _

_So tell me, Ginny, which did you mean to do? Punch me, or scratch me? Because it felt like a bit of both. Like you couldn't really decide._

_And what was it you called me? Not that it matters, but just for the record. Because I was too busy lifting my hand and ducking – but you got me! – and I missed what you said._

_That tiny scar you all may have seen above my eyebrow, that's the shape of Ginny's fingernail... which I plucked out myself. _

I noticed that scar a few weeks ago. On that night. A tiny flaw on her otherwise fairly pretty face. And I told her it was cute. An interesting quirk.

Minutes later, she started freaking out.

_Or maybe you've never seen it. But I see it every morning when I get ready for class. "Good morning, Hermione," it says. And every night when I get ready for bed. "Sleep tight."_

_But it's more than just a scratch. It's a punch in the stomach and a slap in the face. It's a knife in my back because you would rather believe some made up rumour than what you should have known to be true. _

_Ginny, my dear, I'd really like to know if you noticed my scar – your scar – when you went to my funeral. I assume you went, to keep appearances after everything that's happened in the years since. But those years didn't take away what happened, and what you believed, just as they didn't take away my scar. So did you notice?_

_And what about the rest of you? Did you notice the scars that you left behind?_

_No, probably not._

It wasn't possible.

_Because most of them can't been seen with the naked eye._

Because there was no funeral, Granger.

I stopped the tape and closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair and rubbing my temple.

/

**AN**: I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! :D


	5. Cassette 2, Side B

**HERMIONE'S THIRTEEN REASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Five**: Cassette 2, Side B

**AN**: I guess I did get to update tonight, although it will only be a single update, not a double like the last two. But I was so happy about all of your feedback that I had to post. :D

Special thanks to **MelanieSummers**, **Christina**, **love-them-all10**, **Noodles2**, **DramioneLover123**, **camou-191**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, and **taylor** for reviewing the last chapters! I loved hearing from you and when I get a moment, I'm going to try to start replying to each of you individually!

/

The morning that Granger was found, the Head Girl's dormitory was immediately roped off by Filch, at least twenty meters down the corridor, to try to discourage curious students from getting close enough to see what had happened, to try to stop the rumours.

To try to stop the rumours, too late.

But they couldn't block from view the stretcher that Madam Pomfrey had brought down from the infirmery, or the mass on it covered by the white sheet, or the arm that dangled limply from underneath the sheet, unnoticed by the Professors.

Her parents came later that day. They were the first Muggles to step on Hogwarts grounds, as far as I knew. The wondered the halls, eyes red and wide, lost-looking, until Professor McGonagall found them and led them away to her office and then to the infirmary where Granger's body was kept behind the privacy of one of the thick moveable curtains.

I don't know where they took her after that. Potter and the Weasleys, as well as a few of the others that fought along side them in the war, left with her parents and didn't return for a week. I assume they went to the funeral. I wondered what it must have been like for Ginny, after she got back, to listen to the tapes, and hear Granger questioning her about the funeral, and hear her own story of what she had done.

But there was no funeral, no service held at Hogwarts. The Head Girl's quarters stayed roped off, although a few more daring students snuck past the blockade and inside after rumours spread that Granger's ghost now haunted the place.

She couldn't even escape the rumours in death.

I took a deep breath. As the stories went by, one by one, I found myself relieved when my name wasn't mentioned. But relief was followed quickly by a fear of what Granger hasn't yet said, of what she's going to say, when my turn comes. Because my turn was coming. I knew that. And I wanted it to be over with.

What did I do to you, Granger?

I flipped the tape, and pressed play.

While I waited for her words, I stared across the room, out the window. Darkness had really fallen then, and when I pulled my gaze back and focused my eyes, I could see my own reflection in the glass.

I looked away.

I glanced down at the tape player in my lap. There was still no sound, but the play button was pressed. Were the batteries dead?

I stopped the tape, and started it again.

Nothing.

I turned the volume up. The static in the headphones grew louder, showing that the thing was still working, and I turned it back down. And I waited.

_Shh!... if you're talking in the library._

Her voice, it was a whisper.

_Shh!... in a theater, or a church._

I listened closer.

_Sometimes there's no one around to tell you to be quiet... to be very, very quiet. Sometimes you need to be quiet when you're all alone. Like me, right now. _

_Shh!_

At the few occupied tables around the room, people talked. But the only words I understood were Granger's. Though I could hear them over her whispers, they became a muffled background noise occasionally tipped by a sharp laugh.

How could they laugh?

They didn't know, of course.

_For example, you should be quiet – extremely quiet – if you're going to be a Peeping Tom. Because what if they heard?_

I let out a breath of air. It wasn't me. Still not me.

_What if she... what if I... found out?_

_Guess what, Dennis Creevey? I found out._

I leaned back in my chair once more and closed my eyes.

_I feel sorry for you, Dennis, I do. Everyone else on these tapes, so far, must feel a little relieved. They came off as liars or jerks or insecure people lashing out at others. But your story, Dennis... it's a little creepy._

I took another sip of coffee. A Peeping Tom? Dennis? I never expected that. I knew that he had picked up an interest in photography from his older brother, Colin, because they were both sodding annoying about it. But as far as peeping, I never would have expected it.

_And I feel a little creepy telling your story, too. Why? Because I'm trying to get closer to you, Dennis. I'm trying to understand the excitement of stealing into someone's room. Of watching someone who doesn't know they're being watched. Trying to catch them in the act of..._

_What were you trying to catch me in the act of, Dennis? And were you disappointed? Or pleasantly surprised? _

_Okay, a show of hands, please. Who knows where I am? _

I set my coffee down, leaned forward, and tried to imagine Granger recording this.

Where is she?

_Who knows where I'm standing right now?_

Then it clicked and I shook my head, feeling sick to my stomach, and a little embarrassed for Dennis.

_If you said, "In Dennis' room," you're right. And that's the fourth star on your map: The Gryffindor boy's dorm, fifth-years room. It took some doing. Everyone's at dinner tonight, but I had to be sure. I took a head count, and all four of you were there, unaware that someone was about to steal into your room. _

_But of course I know the Gryffindor passwords. Actually, as Head Girl, I know a lot of the passwords. And the rooms aren't kept locked. I borrowed something to keep me from being seen, and I imagine that when he learns that I used it for this, he will be quite upset. _

_All in all, though, I'm feeling pretty safe. _

_Let's have a look around, before dinner is over and you return. Your part of the room is pretty much what I expected. Lot's of cameras. I imagine you acquired a lot of them when Colin passed away, didn't you? Too bad you didn't inherit his manners. At least he was always up front, if a little annoying. But you, Dennis... You're just a little sneak, aren't you? _

_You seem to have a lens for every occasion. _

_I'm sure you have your excuses, as well. It's not like you aren't known for taking candid shots of the student body. _

_Ah, yes. Candid shots of the student body._

_Before coming out here, I took the initiative to memorize the definition of "candid". It's one of those words with many definitions, but there's one that's most appropriate. So here it is: Relating to photography of subjects acting naturally or spontaneously without being posed._

_So tell me, Dennis, those nights you managed to sneak into my room, was I spontaneous enough for you? Did you catch me in all of my natural, unposed... _

_Wait, did you hear that?_

I didn't. Maybe the sound was to faint to be recorded.

_Footsteps. They're returning from dinner._

_It's you, Dennis. It's you. And yes, this is exciting. I can definitely see the thrill._

It must have been terrifying for him to hear this. And it must be hell knowing he wouldn't be the only one.

_Okay, listeners, ready? Door... and... _

_Shh!_

A long pause. Her breathing is soft. Controlled. A door slams and the muffled sound of voices reaches the recorder.

_I cast Muffliato, so as long as I whisper, I can talk and you'll never be any the wiser. Right now, you're just talking with your roommates, so while I wait for something interesting, let's go back and tell everyone how this all began. And if I'm wrong with the timeline, Dennis, find the other people on these tapes and let them know that you started peeping way before I caught you. _

_You'll do that, right? All of you? You'll fill in the gaps? Because every story I'm telling leaves so many unanswered questions. _

I would have answered anything. But she never asked me.

_For example, how long were you stalking me, Dennis? How did you know that I had disabled the password on my room, or which of the doors through the passage was the real door, and which others would trap you forever? _

Instead of asking questions, that night, you started yelling at me.

_Okay, confession time. I'm not technically allowed to disable the password on the Head Girl quarters. But with the additional security on the passage behind the statue hiding it, I didn't see the point of it, and I figured it was one less password for me to have to remember. _

_In previous stories, I told you that the rumours you've all heard about me weren't true. And they're not. But I never claimed to be a Goody Two-Shoes. That was a title you gave me. I went out late to meet a boy, a boy that I had been seeing for awhile, on the night that this all began. We spent some time by the lake, and when we came back, he walked with me as far as the statue, and then... he left. _

I was afraid to look, but I wonder if the other patrons in the Three Broomsticks were looking at me. Could they tell, based on my reactions, that there was something very wrong?

Or maybe no one had noticed. Why would they? No one cared to pay much attention to people like me, since the end of the war.

_Dennis and the other fifth-years are still just sitting around, talking. Fine, have it your way, Dennis. I'll just keep talking about you. _

_Were you hoping that I would have brought Ron in, or would that have made you jealous? _

I tipped my cup back and forth to stir the coffee.

_Either way, after I went inside, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. And the moment I stepped into my room... _Click.

_We all know the sound a camera makes when it snaps a picture. Even some of the fancy digital muggle ones do it for effect. _

_My closet had a pair of those folding slatted doors, and that was the direction that the sound was coming from. I couldn't see anyone, but I know that's where you were. _

_But still I denied it to myself. It was way too creepy to admit to myself that someone was in my closet. I was only freaking myself out, I said. Just still getting used to being alone after years of sleeping in the dorm and then sharing a tent with Harry and Ron during the war._

_Still, I wasn't dumb enough to change in front of the closet door. So I sat down on my bed. _Click_. _

Such an idiot, Dennis. Both you and your brother, not to speak ill of the dead, were just over-excitable idiots.

_Or maybe it wasn't a click, I reasoned. Maybe it was a creak. My bed had a wooden frame that creaks a bit. That was it. It had to be a creak. _

_I pulled the blankets over my body and undressed beneath them. Then I put on my pajamas, doing everything as slowly as possible, afraid that whoever was in my closet might snap another picture. After all, I wasn't sure what a Peeping Tom would be hoping to see._

_But wait – another picture would prove he was there, right? Then I could run out, find one of the professors, or maybe Ron before he got back to Gryffindor Tower and..._

_But the truth is, I didn't know what to hope for. My wand was in my small sitting room, where I had laid it down when I came in. I was alone. I figured ignoring him was my best option, for the moment. I was afraid of what might happen if I went to get my wand, or to get help. _

_Stupid? Yes. But did it make sense? Yes... at the time._

You should have gone for help, Granger. It might have stopped that snowball from picking up speed. The one you keep talking about.

The one that ran us all over.

_Had I known that it was Dennis at the time, I would have yanked the closet door open and stared him straight in the face, grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out to the main corridor, and embarrassed the hell out of him. _

_In fact, that brings up the most interesting part of..._

_Wait! We'll save that story for later. _

_You're standing up, as are your roommates, and you dutifully turn away from each other to rummage through your trunks for pajamas and such, and in the same manner I will not look at any of them. You take out a pair of pajama bottoms and socks. _

_You're sitting back down now, and you're taking off your shoes... now your socks._

I groaned. Please don't do anything stupid, Dennis. It's your room, so you can do what you want, but don't embarrass yourself anymore.

_Maybe I should warn him. Give him a chance to hide. To undress underneath the covers. Maybe I should tap his shoulder, or knock his clean socks to the floor. Maybe I should give him the same sense of paranoia that he gave me. _

Her voice was growing louder. Did she want to get caught?

_After all, that's why I'm here, right? Revenge? _

_No. Revenge would have been fun. Revenge, in a twisted way, would have given me some sense of satisfaction. But this, standing by Dennis' bed, unseen, unheard, satisfies nothing. My mind is made up. _

_So why? Why am I here?_

_Well, I'm not here for me. And if you pass the tapes on, no one but those of you on the list will ever know what I'm saying. So why am I here?_

Tell me, Granger. Tell me why I'm listening to this. Why me?

_I'm not here to watch you, Dennis. Calm down. I don't care what you're doing. In fact, I'm not even watching you right now. I'm back in my room. You should have realized I was lying when I said I had used a muffling charm, but was still recording with a muggle device._

I can't believe I hadn't caught that.

_I'm sitting on my bed, my back against the wall, watching the closet that you watched me from. _

_So let's wrap up your story before I go to bed. In class the next day, after Dennis' visit to my window, I told a girl who sat in front of me what happened. This girl's known for being a good listener, and sympathetic, and I wanted someone to be concerned for me. I wanted someone to validate my fears._

_Well, she was definitely not the girl for that job. This girl's got a twisted side that very few of you know about._

"_A Peeping Tom?" she said. "You mean, a real one?" _

"_I think so," I told her. _

"_I always wondered what that'd be like," she said. "Having a Peeping Tom is kind of... I don't know... sexy."_

Definitely twisted. But who was she? The teenage boy in me couldn't help but become interested in any girl that sexually aware. But I was also so disturbed by this story that I was disturbed by her, by association.

So did I want to know to conquer her, or avoid her?

_She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he'll come back?" _

_Honestly, the thought of him coming back hadn't occurred to me. But now it was bothering me, scaring me even. "What if he does?" I asked her._

"_They you'll have to tell me about it," she said. And then she turned back around, ending our conversation. _

_Now, this girl and I never hung out. We took a lot of the same classes over the years, including the one elective that I ever gave up on. We were nice to each other in class, and she accompanied Harry to the Yule Ball in our fourth year. We shared a room until sixth year. But we never did hang out. _

_Here, I thought, was a golden opportunity. My first chance to make friends and turn my life around after my scandalous years of school and then the war. _

_I tapped her on the shoulder and told her that if she wanted, she could stay the night in the Head Girl's rooms with me, and help me catch a Peeping Tom._

_After classes were over for the day I went to Gryffindor Tower with her to grab her stuff, then we headed straight to my rooms. Since it was a weeknight and she was probably going to be out late, I gave he Head Boy notice that if she was out after curfew she was excused. _

Way to abuse your power, Granger. I smirked, taking a drink of my coffee. It was going cold, and the effect had me clenching my teeth, but I didn't wave Madam Rosmerta over to take it.

_We did our homework, waiting for night to fall. We knew that he probably would have snuck in, as we had made it pretty public knowledge that she would be spending the night with me, as bait. Two girls was nearly irresistible, right? _

I squirmed a little, shifting in my seat.

_We moved into my bedroom and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other, talking about everything imaginable. To catch our Peeping Tom, we knew we needed to keep the talking quiet. We wanted to hear that first... _Click.

_Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes, I've never seen them that happy. _

_She whispered for me to keep talking. "Pretend you didn't hear. Just play along."_

_I nodded._

_Then she covered her mouth and ad-libbed. "Oh my God! You let him touch you where?" _

_We "gossiped" for a couple minutes, trying to hold back any inappropriate laughter – the kind that would have given us away. But the clicking stopped and we were running out of things to gossip about. _

_It was now or never. _

"_One... two... three..." I mouthed, and then we both launched ourselves from the bed. She wrenched open the closet door, and I found myself face to face with you, Dennis. _

_I was shocked, and I hesitated. And in that moment, you bolted._

_After that, you stopped venturing into my room. But your presence, Dennis, that never left. _

_After your visits, I can't keep my closet shut anymore. I check under the bed, behind the clothes hung up in the closet, behind every door and in every shadow. You brought back the paranoia that I had finally managed to shake after the war. I was supposed to finally be able to feel safe. It was supposed to finally be over. But you were the one who took that away. _

_Well... not all of it._

Her voice trembled.

_But you took away what was left._

She paused, and within that silence I realized how intensely I'd been staring at nothing. Staring in the direction of my mug barely a meter away on the table. But not at it.

I wanted to, but I was too anxious to look at the people around me. They had to be watching me now. Trying to understand the pained look on my face. Trying to figure out what the hell Draco Malfoy was up to, frozen in place in the Three Broomsticks.

_So how important is you security, Dennis? What about your privacy? Maybe it's not as important to you as it was for me, but that's not for you to decide._

I looked through the window, past my reflection, to the dimly lit street. I couldn't tell if anyone was still out that late, moving about the street.

_So who was this mystery girl featured in your story, Dennis? Who laughed so beautifully as we posed for you? Who helped me expose you? Should I tell?_

_That depends. What did she ever do to me?_

_For the answer... insert tape three._

But I was ready for it to be me, Granger. I was ready to get this over with.

_Oh, and Dennis, I'm standing outside of your room. Really, this time. There's no sound coming from inside, and it's late, so I suppose everyone is asleep, and I'm here now. _

There was a tap, like fingernails on wood.

_Knock-knock, Dennis._

_Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough. _

I stopped the tape and took off the headphones, needing a break from her voice, from her story. I felt as though I had aged twenty years in the last four hours. I glanced around the Three Broomsticks, my eyes falling on the guest logs at the end of the bar. Most of the students had signed them, at some point, sometimes even doodling or writing favourite lines from books or songs, or a scribbled verse of original poetry.

Since Hermione frequented the place, I thought that she might have signed the log at some point. I stowed the tape player in my pocket and grabbed my coffee, wandering over to the books and picking out the one from our fourth year. I flipped to the first page for September, some time before Rita Skeeter's article had come out, and started scanning the pages.

And there it was. Written in neat script that I recognized from the map, were the words, "Everyone needs to just let it out."

It was signed HG and GW. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. And stuck into the binding was an upside down photograph. I turned it over and found myself gazing into the haunting image of a still-smiling, evidently happy Granger. She appeared to be in the Gryffindor common room, with banners and hangings displaying the tell-tale golden lion. It seemed to be a party, maybe after a Quidditch match, but it definitely wasn't fourth year. Granger looked older. Actually, I would guess that the picture was pretty recent, maybe even taken this year.

But her hair was still long, which put the picture towards the beginning of the year. I liked her hair when it was long, but she cut it all off right before...

In the picture, she looked happy, a party cup in one hand, her other arm hooked around Parvati Patel's shoulders. She was laughing, but Parvati definitely wasn't. She didn't look happy at all. But she didn't look mad, either.

She looked nervous, I thought.

But why?

The subjects of the photograph continued in their little loop of movement, and I placed the photograph back in the binding and shut the book, sealing Granger and her laughter inside.

/

**AN**: I _really _wanted to use Colin for this story but luckily for the sake of canon and unluckily for me, I remembered that one of the Creevey brothers had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, and sure enough when I looked it up, it was him. So I used Dennis.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! :D


	6. Cassette 3, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Six**: Cassette 3, Side A

**AN**: Welcome back! And thanks for all of the favourite adds and alerts on the last chapter! They nearly doubled from before!

Special thanks to **Noodles2**, **DramioneLover123**, **PurpleFlyingToasters**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, **MelanieSummers**, **camou-191**, and **love-them-all10** for reviewing the last chapter! Much love to each of you!

/

_Parvati Patel. What a nice name. And yes, a very nice girl. A very pretty girl, as well. Pretty hair. Pretty smile. Perfect skin. _

_And yes, you're also very nice. Everyone says so._

The picture in the guest log. Granger's arm around Parvati at some party. Granger was happy. Parvati was nervous. But I had no idea why.

_Yes, Parvati, you're sweet to everyone you meet in the halls. You're sweet to everyone as they walk you to class, to meals..._

I sipped my coffee, wincing at the stone cold bitter taste.

_You're definitely one of the most popular girls in our year. Maybe in our school. And you... are... just... so... sweet. Right?_

_Wrong._

I threw my head back, draining my mug of the last of the stone cold coffee.

_Yes, my dear listeners, Parvati is nice to whoever she comes in contact with or whoever she's talking to. But ask yourselves – is it all a show?_

Madam Rosmerta raises her wand and I dutifully shut off the tape player, mindful of the screeching sound that I had heard when I first sat down in the Three Broomsticks. She flicked her wrist and the next second my cup was full again. I nodded to her, forcing a small smile, and waited for her to put her wand back in her pocket before pressing play once more.

_I think it is. Now, let me tell you why._

_First off, to everyone listening, I doubt Dennis will ever admit to taking any pictures of me in my room, much less let you see them. So you have only my word that Parvati was ever in my room, ever helped me out in the least to catch him. _

The tape player nearly slipped from my hands and I fumbled to catch it before it hit the ground. A witch a few tables over raised an eyebrow at me questioningly. I ignored her.

Parvati's the one from Granger's room? The one who found the idea of a Peeping Tom sexy? I definitely never would have expected her to have such an interest.

Granger took an extra-long pause. She knew that would take a second to sink in. Near the window, someone laughs, the sound cutting my very core. I hate that sound. I had doubted it before, with the events since the war, but now I was fairly certain I would never be allowed to laugh again.

_If you have seen those pictures, lucky you, I suppose. But you know, now, that they are very posed. _

_Posed. What an interesting word to sum up Parvati's tale. Because when you're posed, you know someone's watching. You put on your very best smile. You let your sweetest personality shine. _

Unlike Parvati's picture in the guest log.

_And in school, people are always watching so there's always a reason to pose. _

_I don't think you do this intentionally, Parvati. And that's why I put you on these tapes. To let you know that what you do affects others. More specifically, it affected me. _

I never really spent much time with any of the Gryffindors, primarily because I can't stomach most of them. But also, it just wasn't done... Snakes don't run with lions. But Parvati did always seem sickeningly sweet, which I saw as her personal defect. She could care about anything, anyone, no matter how stupid it really was. If someone had a problem, there was Parvati, ready to listen. Hearing her name on these tapes must have killed her.

A shiver ran up my spine. "Killed her." A phrase I would drop from my vocabulary. Because it didn't kill Parvati, did it? I had seen her in the Great Hall at meals, just yesterday, and she had seemed fine. A bit subdued, a bit ashen in the face, but alive enough. No. It hadn't killed her.

It had killed Granger.

_Parvati Patel. What a nice name. A perfect name, with a perfect ring. And as I've said, you look perfect, too. All that's left... is to be perfect. _

_So that's where I give you credit. You could have taken the bitch route and still had all the friends and boyfriends that you could handle. But instead you took the sweet route, so everyone would like you and no one could hate you. _

_Let me be very clear. I do not hate you, Parvati. In fact, I don't even dislike you. But for a time, earlier this year, I thought you and I were becoming friends. _

I didn't remember that. I didn't think I'd ever seen them hanging out, or even talking at any length. As far as I knew, through the years, Granger had shown astoundingly little patience with Parvati, mostly due to her belief in things like Divination, and her association with people like Lavender Brown. I couldn't picture her desiring to hang out with such people.

_It turns out that you were just grooming me to be another tally under People Who Think Parvati Patel is a Really Great Girl. Another person to speak well of you, to admire you, to love you. _

_And once you did it to me, and I realized it, I watched you do it to others. _

_Here, Parvati, is your contribution to the anthology of my life. _

_Did you like that? The anthology of my life? _

_I just made it up. _

I took Granger's map from my pocket, setting it on the table and smoothing out the creases.

_The day after Dennis took the candid shots of our student bodies began like any other. The bell to first class rang and Parvati, as usual, ran in a few seconds late. Not that it mattered, because Professor Binns isn't even aware of what year it is, much less the time. _

_When you were done chatting with the person in front of you, Parvati, I tapped you on the shoulder. The moment you looked into my eyes, we both began laughing. And it was nice, after the years of war and fighting and seriousness, to laugh with a girl my age over a shared secret, a common experience not tinged by death, or fear, or suffering. We spoke a bunch of two- or three-word sentences but it didn't matter who said what, because what you said were my thoughts as well. _

"_So weird."_

"_I know."_

"_What the hell?" _

"_Can you imagine?" _

"_So funny."_

_Then, when Professor Binns started droning on, you turned around to face the front of the room. And when class was over, you left. _

I searched the map for the red star at Dennis' room. Part of me felt strange, almost invasive, of keeping such close tabs on Granger's story. Like I was obsessed. Too obsessed. While another part of me wanted to deny the obsession.

_It wasn't until I stepped out into the hall on my way to second class that I thought, "Wait a second. She didn't say good-bye."_

I was just doing what she asked. That wasn't obsession. It was respect. I was was living out her last requests.

_Did you say good-bye on any other day? No, not often. But after the previous night, this time it felt intentional. I guess I thought that after what we'd experienced together less than twenty-four hours before, we would now be more than just casual acquaintances. _

A red star. Gryffindor Tower, the boys dorms. I couldn't go in, of course, but I could go as far as the outside hall.

_But that, evidently, is what we'd become once again. We said hello in the halls and sometimes you said good-bye to me after class, but never more than you said it to anyone else._

_Until the night of the party._

_Until you needed me again._

I stopped the tape. I needed a moment to catch up. I couldn't listen anymore until I did that.

I took off the headphones and wrapped their cord around the player to stow it in my pocket once more. Madam Rosmerta was walking about with a plastic tub following her, setting abandoned mugs and plates into it. I looked away from her as I stood up, towards the dark front window. Her reflection glances my way a few times, warily, but I do not acknowledge her.

I set a few coins on the table, more than enough to cover the coffee, and drained the last from the mug.

Fifteen minutes later, I was once more on the path that connected the school and Hogsmeade. I took out the tape player, unraveled the headphones, and put them on once more.

_Let me tell you that there is a much bigger, more important party later in the tapes._

Is that it? Is that where I come in? Is it that night? The night that we...

_But this is the party that brings Parvati into the mix._

_I was heading, once more, to History of Magic when you grabbed my hand._

"_Hermione, wait up," you said. "How are you?"_

_Your smile, your teeth... flawless._

_I probably said, "Fine," or, "Good, how are you?" But truthfully, I didn't care, Parvati. Every time our eyes caught each other in a crowded hall and I watch your gaze jump to someone else, I lost a little more respect for you. And sometimes I wondered how many people in that one hallway felt the same._

_You went on to ask if I'd heard about the party later that night – the one that would be held after the Quidditch match that evening, no matter the outcome. After the war, people took every opportunity to celebrate, on a constant high of freedom and victory._

Maybe for your side, Granger.

_I said that I had, but that I didn't feel like going, and wandering around looking for someone to talk to, or someone to save me from talking to someone else._

"_We should go together," you said. And you tilted your head to the side, flashed your smile, and – though I'm probably imagining this – I think you even batted your eyes._

Yeah, that was Parvati. No one could resist her, and she flirted with everyone.

"_Why?" I asked. "Why should we go to a party together?" _

_That obviously took you by surprise. I mean, you are who you are, and everyone wants to go to a party with you. To at least be seen entering a party with you. Everyone! Boys. Girls. It didn't matter. That's the kind of admiration people have for you._

Have? Or had? Because I had a feeling that was about to change, for at least twelve people.

_Most of them, unfortunately, don't realize how carefully you plan that image. _

_You repeated my question. "Why should we go to a party together? Hermione, so we can hang out."_

_I asked why you wanted to hang out after ignoring me for so long. But of course, you denied ignoring me at all. You said I must have misread things. And the party would be a good chance to get to know each other better. _

_And although I was still suspicious, you are who you are, and everyone wants to go to a party with you. _

But you knew, Granger. You knew, but you still went. Why?

"_Great!" you said. "It's going to be a good match, but without Potter seeking this year, who knows how long it will go on. I know you don't live in Gryffindor Tower anymore, but as Head Girl you can still come out, even if it's after curfew, right?" _

Eighth-years may have been allowed to leave grounds, but we were still supposed to obey curfew. No nighttime wanderings for us.

_For some reason, this made my heart tumble a bit. But I ignored it, and ignored my suspicions once again. "Sure, Parvati," I said. "I'll see you then."_

_And you smiled that perfect smile again, flashing those perfect teeth, and said, "This is going to be great!" then gathered your stuff and left._

_Guess what, Parvati?On your way out the door, you forgot to say good-bye. _

_So here's my theory as to why you wanted me to go to a party with you: You knew I was upset at being ignored by you. At the very least, you knew I had noticed. And that was not good for your flawless reputation. That had to be fixed. _

_The fifth star on your map, everybody. Gryffindor Tower, the girl's dormitory. Boys, you may have to skip this one. You won't be able to get up the staircase._

That didn't matter to me. I wouldn't be able to even get into the common room.

_When I approached the portrait of the fat lady, it suddenly flew open. Out you came, hopping down from the slight ledge at the bottom of the frame, and down the corridor. It was past curfew, but you were coming to meet the Head Girl. You weren't going to be reprimanded. _

Why did I feel so compelled to follow the map? I didn't need to. I was listening to her tapes, every single one, front and back, and that should have been enough.

But it wasn't.

_You greeted me, thanked me for coming, and walked back to the portrait with me. _

I wasn't following the map because she wanted me to. I was following it because I needed to understand. Whatever it took, I needed to truly understand what happened to her.

_I wanted to be wrong about you, Parvati. I did. I wanted to you be genuinely glad that I had come to the party to hang out with you. And that is why I continued to ignore the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach. It was only natural, I figured. After everything that had happened the previous years, it was only natural to still have my guard up and my suspicions raised._

_But still, at that moment, I knew how the party would play out for us. But how it ended? Well, that was a surprise. That... was weird. _

_You gave the password, and the portrait opened, and a wave of sound tumbled out, loud enough to nearly knock me back. Music, shouting, laughter, cheers, it all tumbled out at once. I gathered that we had won, although I hadn't gone to the game. The party was absolutely begging for the Professors to break it up. _

I didn't go to many parties, myself. I'm rarely invited, Blaise being the only one that I talk to and not being big on parties himself. And I'm rarely invited because I'm not welcome. I can well enough take a hint.

_When we got through to the common room, two sixth-year Quidditch players, still wearing their gear, stood on opposite sides of the entrance collecting drink money. I reached into my pocket for the two sickles. _

Two sickles? That was it? They must charge girls differently.

_Over the loud music you shouted to me, "Don't worry about it."_

"_Oh, hey Parvati," one of the guys said. "Here you go." And he handed you a red plastic cup. _

_You nodded your head in my direction. The guy smiled and handed me a a cup. But when I went to take it from him, he didn't let go. He told me that his replacement was coming any minute and that we should hang out. He wasn't bad looking, but he had flown under my radar through the years, and I didn't know him well, past recognizing his face from the halls. I smiled at him, but you grabbed me by the arm and pulled me past two the common room. _

"_Don't," you said. "Trust me."_

_I asked why, but you were scanning the crowd and didn't hear me. _

I didn't remember any stories of Parvati and any Quidditch players. A lot of guys, sure, but not Quidditch players. That was what Lavender Brown was known for.

_Then you said we should split up. And do you want to know my first thought when you said that, Parvati? Gee, that didn't take long. _

_You said there were a few people that you needed to see and that we should meet up later. I lied and said there were some people I needed to see, too. Ron and Harry didn't go to these parties anymore. Since the war, even I barely saw them. They kept to themselves. Who did you think I needed to see? But I doubt you even gave it that much thought. _

_Then you told me not to leave before we met up again. _

_But why, Parvati? What was the point?_

I was just inside the gate at the entrance to Hogwarts' grounds now, but I wasn't sure that I was ready to go back up to the castle. There were barely any lights on, most of the school was sleeping.

_But you smiled at me, and finally you said the magic word. "Good-bye." And good-bye was exactly what you meant. _

"Can't decide where to go, Draco?"

An icy chill shot up my spine.

A voice. A girl's voice. But not from the headphones. Not Granger.

I stopped the tape, whipping around in surprise. A few meters away, sitting against a tree trunk, her feet stretched out in front of her, bare toes dug into the earth below, a girl stared up at me with wide, curious eyes.

Luna Lovegood. She smiled, or maybe it was closer to a laugh, because she knew she had scared the bloody hell out of me.

Luna's always been pretty enough, but she acted as though the thought had never occurred to her, her long hair kept wild and in a constant halo of near-tangles, loose around her shoulders and nearly down to her waist. She wore the oddest clothing when not in uniform, including her cork necklace and radish earrings, as well as those bizarre glasses that her father had been hawking in the _Quibbler_.

Her father... I wondered how she could even look at me, much less speak to me so casually after what my family did to hers in the war. After what had happened to her personally in my house...

But that was Luna, for you. Odd.

I pulled the headphones off of my ears and let them hang around my neck. I didn't feel the need to explain them to Luna, and she didn't ask. I wondered if she already knew, or if she simply wasn't curious.

"Can't sleep?" she asked. More words than she'd spoken to me in a long time, maybe ever. "Neither could I. But I like this time of night, don't you? It's quite peaceful, right before the night creatures come out."

I shook my head. No, that wasn't it. And my night was anything but peaceful.

She looks up at the stars, unaffected by my lack of a response. I look back towards the castle, down the last kilometer or so of the path. Then I turn back to Luna.

"What are you doing out after curfew?" I asked. The smile returned and her wide, clear eyes refocus on mine. I shift from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable under her odd gaze.

"Nothing in particular," she finally said.

Why was she like this? Why did she insist on being an outcast, an oddball? She never seemed to care to be a part of anything in particular, or what anyone thought of her. Couldn't anything shake her? Didn't anything bother her? Matter to her?

But I needed to continue on.

Or instead, I could stay and talk to Luna, whatever little point that may hold. It was almost guaranteed to be a one-way conversation.

"See you later, Draco," she said, turning her face back up to the sky, still smiling softly.

And that was it. The conversation was over. Part of me, I admit, was relieved. I continue on without a reply, certain that she was no longer listening to me, as the cicadas had begun their song and she was humming along softly.

I would go as far as the portrait of the fat lady that I knew now for sure hid the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. That would have to suffice. Maybe I'd see someone in the hall, but I doubted it. And even if I did, there was absolutely no chance that they would let me in.

With each step that I took, I thought more about her stories, and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach settled in deeper.

I make it up to the fourth floor and there at the end is the portrait. But the corridor is not abandoned, as I had expected. Because there was Dennis, held upside-down in the air as though by an invisible rope around his ankle. His nose was bloodied, and as I moved closer I saw that one of his eyes was blackened. He seemed conscious, but just barely. He blinked up at me, confused.

"Oh, you now," he gasped. "I guess this is better – get two out of the way in one night."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I guess you're going to hit him, too."

The icy chill ran up my spine again and I spun around as some little Gryffindor prefect stepped out of an adjacent room. Hooper, I thought.

I leaned forward, resting my hands on my knees. Exhausted. "What are you on about?" I asked.

"Go ahead," he said. "I won't stop you."

I looked up at him, confused. Was he really encouraging me to hit Dennis?

"Why?" I asked.

"Seems a lot of people want to," he said, shrugging. "In fact, a lot of people are paying me a lot of money to let them." He shook his pocket, causing a fair amount of coins to clang together as if to punctuate his point.

I looked back to Dennis, hanging upside down. He let out a low, piteous groan. Then I looked down and closed my eyes, shaking my head. "Let me guess, you're on the tapes."

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. And when I looked back up, the corners of his eyes struggled to hold back a smile. And in that struggle, I could tell he was not ashamed.

I nod to Dennis. "Did you do that?"

"I just strung him up," he said. "You'd be the first to say no, Malfoy. Of course, Ginny, she did it herself. Bombarded him coming out of his room. Might've been what inspired the others, actually."

My heart started racing. Not from Hooper standing there, or Dennis hanging in the air, but from what he had just told me.

"You're the third to come here," he said. "Aside from Ginny, plus myself."

I tried to picture anyone other than Hooper, someone else on the list, beating up Dennis. But I couldn't. It didn't make sense. We were all on the list. All of us. We were all guilty of something. What was Dennis any different than the rest of us?

I couldn't imagine what Dennis had told people – the faculty, his friends, the students in other houses who may wonder what happened to him. What did they say? Did they ask why? What did he tell them?

"The first was Krum," Hooper said. He didn't sound the least bit ashamed to be telling me that. "No one knew he was here, of course. He came in the night, and I ran into him on my rounds. He asked me to bring him Creevey. I didn't know why, yet, it's not like Krum was really friends with anyone here, and Dennis wasn't even at Hogwarts when Krum was in the tournament. But he really wanted to see him."

"So what, you just brought him to Krum, without asking why?"

"It wasn't my business, was it? That's what you're thinking, isn't it? It's not our business to talk about. And I didn't even know the tapes existed yet."

I looked back at Dennis. He wouldn't stand up to another beating very well tonight, half-conscious as he was. But Hooper wanted me to finish him off. Why?

I looked back to Hooper once more. I should beat the shit out of _him_, really. There's no way to keep my voice from shaking. "You're a dick, Hooper."

"What?"

"You're on the tapes, too," I said. "Right?"

"So are you, Malfoy."

"What makes us so different from him, then?" I asked. My voice had started shaking from rage, and despair I had felt at being put on the same plane as Hooper and Dennis.

"He's a Peeping Tom," Hooper said. "He's a freak. He spied on Granger, lurking in her closet."

"And you?" I asked. "What did you do?"

For a moment, Hooper's eyes stared through me. Then he blinked, shook his head, and scowled at the floor.

"Nothing. It's ridiculous," he said. "I don't belong on those tapes. Granger just wanted an excuse to off herself."

I turned away from him, away from Dennis and from the portrait. It was that, or smash his face in right there.

"Get the hell away from me," I told him.

"It's my house, Malfoy."

My fingers closed and tightened into a fist. I looked down, aching to slam my fist into his face.

But I started back down the corridor. I walked the full length of the hall without looking back. I couldn't let myself look, couldn't let myself think. I pulled the headphones from my neck and placed them back on my ears before reaching into my pocket and pressing play.

_Was I disappointed when you said good-bye to me, Parvati?_

_Not much. It's hard to be disappointed when what you expect turns out to be true. _

Keep walking, I told myself.

_But did I feel stung by it all the same? Absolutely._

_And yet the whole time, you probably thought that you were polishing up your image in my eyes. Can you say... backfire?_

_I was disgusted._

I pulled out my map and looked for the nearest star that had nothing to do with Gryffindor Tower. I wasn't going back there. I wasn't listening to Hermione talk about that place while I stared at Dennis, hanging upside down, or Hooper leering at me, egging me on.

I was on to the next thing.

_Parvati was servicing her reputation, but did anyone at that party actually believe that she asked me there as a friend? Or did they simply think that I was her latest charity case?_

_I guess I'll never know._

The next star was on the first basement level of the castle, below the main floor, but not as far down as the dungeons. However, it wasn't marked as to what it was. I put the map away again.

_I was done; I decided to leave for the night. And when I approached the exit, the same passage where I entered the common room, guess who was standing there all by himself?_

_Dennis Creevey... fully equipped with his camera._

It's time to leave Dennis alone, Granger.

_When he saw me, the look on his face was priceless. And pitiful. He crossed his arms, trying to sheild the camera from view. But why would he do that? His pension for photography wasn't exactly a secret. _

_But I asked anyway. "What's that for, Dennis?"_

"_What? Oh... this? Um... just memories, you know."_

_And then, from behind me, someone called my name. I'm not going to tell you who because it doesn't matter. Like the person who cornered me in the astronomy tower, what he was about to say was just an effect of someone else's actions – someone else's callousness._

"_Parvati said I should talk to you," he said._

_I looked behind him. At the far end of the room, a table of liquor and other drinks was set up, frosted by a cooling charm, most of the bottles nearly empty by this point. Beside the table, Parvati was talking to a few other students – her real friends, I suppose._

_The boy standing in front of me took a slow sip from his drink. "She says you would do a run to Hogsmeade for more drinks, because you can go out after curfew and well... Supplies are getting kind of low. She said I should go to keep you company as well."_

_So that was it. That was why Parvati wanted me there. To make sure they didn't run out of drinks. And she thought that if she sent a cute boy to accompany me, it would be fine._

_Yes, he was sort of good-looking. But this. Was not. Okay._

_Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dennis Creevey start walking away. I had a better idea. I caught up to Dennis and stood in front of him, blocking his path. "You want a picture?" I said. "Follow me." Then I grabbed his arm and led him across the room. _

The picture! The one from the guest log!

_Dennis protested the whole way, about how if he took a picture of underage students near the drinks we could all get in trouble. Right. Why would anyone want evidence of real student life? _

"_Not that," I said. "I want you to take a picture of me. Me and Parvati."_

_I swear, at that moment, his forehead was glistening. Me and the other girl, together again._

_I asked if he was alright._

"_Yeah, no, sure, fine." And that's an exact quote._

In the picture, Granger's arm is wrapped around Parvati. Granger's laughing, but Parvati isn't. She's nervous.

And now I knew why.

_Parvati was in the middle of having her cup filled, and I told Dennis to wait right there. When Parvati saw me, she asked if I was having fun. _

"_Someone wants to take your picture," I said. Then I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her over to Dennis. _

Dennis put the picture in the log at the Three Broomsticks. He wanted us to see it.

_This was not a part of her plan. She only invited me in case they needed a drink run done, and to clear her perfect name after ignoring me for so long. A permanent photograph linking us to one another was not supposed to happen. _

_Parvati tried to pull out of my grip. "I... I don't want to," she said._

_I whirled around to face her. "Why not, Parvati? Why did you invite me here? Please don't tell me it was just in case you needed more drinks. I mean, I thought we were becoming friends."_

He must have put it in the log after learning what it really meant, where he knew only we would see it and know what it meant.

"_We are friends," she said._

"_Then take a picture with me," I said._

_Dennis aimed the camera and focused the lens, waiting for our beautiful, natural smiles. Parvati lowered her drink to her side. I put my arm around her waist and told her, "If you ever need a favour, Parvati, all you need to do is ask. You don't need to pretend to like me. Because I don't like you much, either. Now, smile."_

_I leaned forward, pretending someone had just told the funniest joke in the world. _Click_._

_Then I told them I was leaving. _

_Parvati begged me to stay. She told me to be reasonable._

"_You know, Parvati... I really don't want to," I said. And I left._

_Part of me wanted to cry about being so right about her invitation. Instead, on the long walk back to my rooms, I started laughing. And I shouted, my voice echoing through the halls, "What is going on?"_

_And then someone called my name. _

"_What do you want, Dennis?" _

_He told me I was right to leave. "The party was boring, anyway."_

"_No, Dennis, it wasn't," I said. And then I really started laughing. Not specifically at Dennis, but at the absurdity of the whole night. Did he really have no clue that I knew about his night prowling? That I _had _gotten a good look at him before he dashed from my room that night? Or did he just sincerely hope that I hadn't?_

_A few times after that, he tried talking to me. But each time I cut him off, or ignored him. I didn't want to act like everything was okay, because it wasn't. _

_I took the longest route possible back to my rooms that night._

I had a feeling I'd be doing the same.

_I explored hidden passages and random corridors that I had never had occasion to take before. I discovered parts of the castle entirely new to me. And finally... I discovered that I was sick of this school... Of these people, of this whole stupid magical world, and everything I had seen in it so far._

I'm starting to get there, too, Granger. But unlike you, I don't know anything past this world.

_Next side._

I flipped the tape.

/

**AN**: This chapter really took it all out of me, for some reason. I don't really get it, it's not the most emotionally draining of the chapters, and it wasn't the most difficult to adapt, but for some reason it was just tiring. I hope it didn't come across that way to read. D:

Please review! I'm enjoying them so much, and I've gotten to replying to each and every one! I love hearing what parts are your favorites, and answering your questions, as well, so don't hold back – although if you hated it, I do ask that you use tact. :3


	7. Cassette 3, Side B

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Seven**: Cassette 3, Side B

**AN**: With this chapter, we're about halfway through the story. Thanks for sticking with me, and I'm glad people are still enjoying it! So without further adieu, on with the show! :D

/

_In Gryffindor house, a few months ago, there was a fundraiser, organized by a few members of Dumbledore's Army, to provide relief for the orphans of the war. They had hoped to spread it through the whole school, but for whatever reason, it never really made it further than the members of the DA in other houses. You may have heard of them, the Galleon Valentines. _

I hadn't heard of those. I guess Slytherin house was pretty much left out, without having any members of Dumbledore's Army.

_Those were fun, weren't they? You filled out a survey, and then they were shuffled and magically matched, and then for only a galleon, you could get the name, house, and class schedule of your one true soul mate. For five galleons, you got your top five. And hey! All proceeds were going to a worthy cause. _

_Completely worth it, if a little silly, right?_

_Each morning in the common room and the halls as I did my rounds, they were promoting these things. "There's only four more days now! Only four more days until your true love is revealed!"_

"_Only three more days... Only two more days... Just one more day... Today's the day!"_

For every corridor I put between Hooper and Creevey and myself, the muscles in my shoulders relax a little bit more.

_Yes, I did fill out the survey. I've been a sucker for this sort of thing my whole life. If you ever caught me reading a magazine, it was one that my roommates bought for the hair and makeup tips, and passed off to me for the surveys. _

Because you never wore makeup, Granger. Just that day with Krum, and maybe the Yule Ball.

_This survey was a two-parter. First, you described yourself. Hair colour, eye colour, Height. Body type. Favourite type of music. Favourite book. Then you put a check by your top three favourite things to do in your free time. Which is funny, because whoever designed the list forgot to mention drinking and sex, which I can tell you from my rounds are by far the top two pastimes of our student body._

_In all, there were about twenty questions. And I know, based on who appeared on my list, that not everyone answered honestly._

I stopped, too exhausted for the moment to continue on. I rested my back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, leaning my head back against the cool stone as Granger continued her story.

_For part two of this survey, it was your turn to describe what you were looking for in a soul mate. Their height. Their body type. If they're athletic or bookish or what have you. Shy or outgoing._

I was near the Slytherin commons now, but I wasn't sure if I should – or even could – go back now. If I stayed here, I might get caught out after curfew. But I didn't want to go back yet.

_As I filled mine out, I found myself describing a certain someone specifically. _

I wished I had heard of this thing. Maybe I would have filled it out. Maybe then...

_You'd think that if my answers all described one person, that person would've at least appeared in my top five. But that person must not have heard of the fundraiser, because he didn't end up on my list anywhere._

_And no, I'm not telling you his name... yet._

_The moment I got my survey, I filled in every answer. At the end of the day, I turned it back in to the girl who seemed to be heading it. She was only a mediocre member of the DA at best, but she was really going all out for this fundraiser. I guess it was just her sort of thing. She was sitting at a table between the staircases to the dormitories, with a large shoebox covered in pink and red paper hearts set to one side. I folded my survey in half and slid it through the slat at the top. _

"_Hermione," she said. "I didn't know you and Parvati were friends." She seemed a bit jealous. But at the look I gave her, she seemed to realize the truth and backpedaled quickly. "At least, that's what I figured. That's what it looked like."_

I thought I knew who that might be. The girl I was thinking of was beyond nosy.

_My first thought was of Dennis, standing in my closet... and I was furious! Was he actually showing off those Peeping Tom photos? _

_No, she had seen us posing for Dennis' picture at the party. Of course that was it. She would have been there, after all. _

"_No, we're not," I said. She shrugged and went back to gazing across the room at the students filling out their surveys. _

_Everything about that party, about Parvati and I, was false. Right then, if that room, with the realization that no one knew the truth about me or my life, my thoughts about the world were shaken. _

_Like flying on a broom on a windy day, and losing control just for a moment, tossing you – just a tad – off course. You roll a bit, tighten your grip, but you're able to pull it back. Yet no matter how tightly you grip the broom, no matter how hard you try to drive straight, you're blown off course. You have so little control over anything anymore. And at some point, the struggle becomes too much – too tiring – and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever may happen... to happen._

I pressed my fingers hard against my hairline, my thumbs against my temples, and squeezed.

_In that picture, I'm sure Parvati was wearing a beautiful smile._

She wasn't. But you wouldn't know that.

_See, Parvati thought that she could jerk me around whenever she wanted to. But I didn't let that happen. I jerked myself back on course just long enough to push her off... if only for a moment._

_But now? The survey. Was this just another chance to get thrown? Was this survey, for the guys who found my name on their list, going to be the excuse they needed to ask me out?_

_And would they be extra-excited about that because of the rumours they had heard? _

_I looked at the slat in the top of the box, too thin to squeeze my fingers through. But I could lift off the top and take out my survey. It would be so easy. She would ask why and I would pretend I was embarrassed about filling out a love survey. She'd understand. And if she didn't, who cared? I'd still get my survey back. I'd even give her the stupid galleon, anyway._

_Or... I could wait and see._

If I had heard about the survey, if I had taken it, would I have gotten matched with Granger? And then maybe we would have talked. Seriously talked for the first time in all the years we had known each other. Without fighting, without judging each other for the past.

Or maybe she would have just thought I was talking to her because of those rumours. Those stupid, inescapable rumours.

But I didn't hear about it. And so it never came up.

_Would most students get their list and just have a good laugh, thinking nothing of it? Or would they use it? _

If Granger's name had come up on my list, would I have approached her? Probably not, if I was honest with myself. I probably would have laughed and moved on.

I slouched down in my spot on the floor, hanging my head.

_Very little, I told myself, could go wrong. The survey was just for fun, just a joke. No one's going to use it. Calm down, Hermione. You are not setting yourself up._

_But if I was right – if I called it correctly – if I willingly gave someone an excuse to test those rumours about me... well... I don't know. Maybe I'd shrug it off. Maybe I'd get pissed. _

_Or maybe I would finally let go and give up. _

_This time, for the first time, I saw the possibilities in giving up. I even found hope in it. _

_So what were my options? I could leave the commons as a pessimist and take my survey with me. Or I could leave it as an optimist and hope for the best. In the end, I walked out with my survey still in that box, unsure of what I was. An optimist? A pessimist? _

_Neither. A fool._

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the cool air that drafted around me in the corridor.

"_Today's the day!" that girl was saying the next day when I made my rounds. Pick up your Galleon Valentines during your break today!" _

_I hadn't decided yet if I wanted to find out who the survey matched me up with. With my luck, it would be Ron, and we all know how disasterous that had proven._

The Weasel and Granger had been an ill-fated match once the trauma of the war was over. When they didn't have something to fight for together, they had very little in common. While they remained friendly, it wasn't a big surprise to anyone when they broke up only about five months into the year.

_But when I walked into the common room during my free period and found no one standing in line, I thought, what the hell. _

_I went up to the table and the girl from the day before shuffled through the stack of papers in front of her to find my list. She asked how many of my results I wanted, one, or five? I placed five galleons on the table, and she slid my paper over to me without separating the bottom half._

_She assured me that she hadn't peeked at anyone's names. I didn't believe her, but I thanked her, anyway._

"_So," she asked. "Who'd you get?" _

_I let her see. _

"_Not bad," she said. "Oooh, I like this one."_

_I agreed that it wasn't a bad list. But not wonderful, either._

_She lifted her shoulders, which described my list pretty well. Then she let me in on a little secret. It wasn't the most scientific of surveys. Go figure, right? _

_We both agreed that two names out of the list matched me fairly well. Another name, one that I was pleased with, brought an entirely different reaction out of her._

"_No," she said. Her expression, her posture, lost all its cheeriness. "Trust me... no."_

Was he on one of these tapes, Granger? Is that who this tape was about? Because I didn't think this tape was about the girl.

"_But he's fairly good-looking," I said. _

"_On the outside," she told me._

_She pulled out a lock-box from one of the drawers on her side of the table and opened it to drop my money inside. I didn't push the subject, but I should have. And in a couple more tapes, you'll know why. Which reminds me, I haven't told you who our main man on this tape is. Fortunately, this is the perfect time to introduce him because that's exactly when he showed up._

Again, not me.

_Someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned around to see him. _

"_Hermione Granger," he said. "Good to see you."_

_No way, I thought. Someone was actually talking to me because my name was on their list? Kind of exciting, yes, but weird at the same time. It wasn't the one that she had warned me about, though, so I went with it. I read the two unfamiliar names on my list and he grinned._

"_It looks like you made my list, but I didn't make yours," he said. _

Actually, you did make her list. A different list. One I'm sure you don't like being on.

_I asked him where on his list my name popped up. _

"_Ready for this?" he asked. "You're my number one, Hermione."_

_The girl handing out the results was nearly vibrating with excitement beside me. _

"_So what are you doing for Valentine's Day?" he asked. _

"_Depends," I said. "Why don't you tell me your name first?" _

_He laughed. "Geoffrey Hooper," he said. _

_Hello, Geoffrey._

I ground my teeth together. Hooper. I should've hit him when I had the chance.

_Geoffrey, as you may know, is known as one of the biggest goof-offs at Hogwarts, but he somehow managed to snag the prefect badge, so I figured he must have some redeeming qualities. Of course, he wasn't known as a slacker sort, but more just a fun goofball. _

Guess again.

"_Fine," I said. "When?" _

_The girl at the table covered her face with her hands, but through the fingers I watched her skin blush. _

_I don't know, without her there as an audience egging me on, I doubt I would have agreed to go out with him that fast. But I was playing it up, I'll admit it. Giving her something to brag about._

_Now it was Geoffrey's turn to blush. "Oh... um... Okay... well... How about we meet in the kitchens tonight? I know it's not much, but it'll be more private than Hogsmeade or around the castle, and we can talk, maybe have some desert."_

That was what the next star must be, now that I thought of it. It was in just the right place to be the kitchens. I should have guessed.

_I agreed to meet up with him there after dinner. And with that, we went our separate ways to finish out our classes for the day._

_The girl made me promise to tell her all the details the next day. I said I would, but did I? No. Instead I avoided her for as long as I could. _

_And you're about to find out why. _

_Of course, I couldn't avoid her forever, which is why, in a little while, she'll make another appearance on these tapes... but with a name._

The draft wasn't the only reason I was shivering anymore. With every side of every tape, an old memory got turned upside-down. A reputation twisted into something that I didn't recognize.

I didn't know how to react when I learned of Granger's death. At first, I didn't feel much of anything. But that was odd in itself. I had always felt strongly about even the smallest of things. But every time I saw someone react when they heard, it made me want to feel it, as well. I wanted to cry.

Instead, I should have been angry with most of them.

It was making me more sick by the minute.

_So if you want the full Hermione experience, go down to the kitchens. Do this late at night, though, as the elves will be using magic well into the evening. _

I hated not knowing what to believe anymore. I hated not knowing what was real.

I hauled myself to my feet and started on towards the kitchens.

_The star number five on your map. There's a painting of a bowl of fruit on the wall, about halfway down that corridor. Tickle the pear, and you should get inside without a problem. Once inside, sit down at one of the tables that run the room, mirroring the ones in the Great Hall above. In a minute, I'll tell you what to do after seating yourself. But first, a little bit of background._

_I'd been down to the kitchens before, with Ron and Harry, when they needed to ask the elves some questions – but that story is unimportant. But a few students knew how to get to the kitchen, and it was a favourite spot for late-night snacks or to hide out from the prefect rounds until they left that floor. But people almost never go there alone. The elves are a bit hostile, as it's their workplace, and you're mainly just in their way, there. They will still serve you, because that is what they're supposed to do._

There was a note of bitterness in her voice, but that wasn't surprising. It wasn't really a secret how she felt about the elves' enslavement.

_I was a little wary of Geoffrey. A little suspicious. But not so much of him as the people that I found out that he hung out with, once I had asked around a bit. I didn't trust many of these people, so why should I trust him?_

You shouldn't.

_Why? Because that's exactly what I wanted for me. I wanted people to trust me and get to know me, despite what they had heard, good or bad. And more than that, I wanted them to know _me_. Not the stuff they thought they knew, but the real me. I wanted them to get past the rumours and the stories. To see beyond the relationships I had once had, or the things I had done that were becoming "legend". Yes, including the stories of heroics in the war. All of that. And if I wanted people to treat me that way, I had to do the same for them, right?_

_So I walked into the kitchen and sat down at the nearest table. And when you go there, if you go there, do not ask the elves for anything right away._

_Just sit and wait. _

_And wait a little more._

I paused the tape as I arrived in the corridor, lined with paintings, that ran adjacent to the kitchens. As I walked by, I looked at each painting without really seeing them, until finally my eyes focused on the one she had described. I stared at it for a second before, feeling a little stupid, reaching out and tickling the bright green pear.

It giggled. _Giggled. _It shouldn't surprise me, growing up in this world, but it still seemed silly for a piece of fruit to laugh. Then, the portrait swung forward to reveal a door. I steeled myself for a second, and then stepped through.

The kitchen was warm, and very busy. Elves bustled around in every direction, carrying piles of dishes, dirty and clean, larger than themselves, to and from the large sink basins on one side of the vast room.

"Can we get you anything, Master?" one of them squeaked as they scurried by. I shook my head, heeding Granger's instructions, and moved to sit at one of the tables. Out of habit I chose the one on the far side of the room, the one that would match the Slytherin table above, and pressed play on the tape player once again.

_Listen to all of the activity around you. Are the elves wondering why you're just sitting there, not asking for anything but encroaching on their territory all the same? Do they keep offering to get you something? How do you feel, repeatedly refusing them? Underfoot? Inconvenient? Purposeless? _

_I'm sorry if this sounds pathetic, but you know it's true. You've never gone there by yourself, even if you have been there before, have you?_

I haven't, she was right.

_It's a totally different experience. And deep down you know the reason you've never gone alone is the reason I just explained. But if you do go, and you don't ask for anything, everyone's going to think the same thing about you that they thought about me. That you're waiting for someone._

_So sit there. And every few minutes, glance at the clock over the stoves. The longer you wait – and this is true – the slower the hands will move._

Not tonight. My heart was racing as I watched the hands spin around.

_When fifteen minutes is up, you have my permission to ask for something to drink. Whatever you want, it doesn't matter. Because fifteen minutes is ten minutes longer than it should have taken even the slowest person to get there from dinner in the Great Hall._

_Somebody... isn't coming._

_Now, if you need a recommendation, you can't go wrong with a banana-and-peanut-butter shake._

_Then keep waiting, however long it takes to finish your drink. If thirty minutes goes by, start digging into the shake with your spoon so that you can get the hell out of there. That's what I did. _

You're an ass, Hooper. You stood her up when you never even had to ask her out to begin with. It was just a fundraiser. If you didn't want to take it seriously, you didn't have to.

I guess it's ironic. The illustrious Draco Malfoy calling someone else an ass.

_Thirty minutes is a long time to wait for a Valentine's date. Especially in the kitchen by yourself. It also gives you plenty of time to wonder what happened. Did he forget? Because he seemed sincere. I mean, even that girl who was handing out the results thought he meant it, right? _

_Calm down, Hermione. That what I kept telling myself. You're not setting yourself up. Calm down. Does that sound familiar to anyone else? Isn't that how I convinced myself not to pull my survey back out of the box? _

_Okay, stop. Those were the thoughts running through my head after waiting thirty minutes for Geoffrey to show up. Which probably didn't put me in the best frame of mind for when he did show up. _

If Hooper didn't stand her up, then what?

_He sat down on the bench next to me and apologized. I told him that I'd almost given up and left. He looked at my empty glass and apologized again. But in his mind, he wasn't late. He wasn't sure I would even be there. _

_And I'm not going to hold that against him. Apparently, he thought we were joking about the date. Or he assumed we were joking. But halfway to Gryffindor Tower, he stopped, thought about it, and headed to the kitchens just in case. _

_And that's why you're on this tape, Geoffrey. You turned around just in case. Just in case I, Hermione Granger – Miss Reputation – was waiting for you. _

_And sadly, I was. At the time I just thought it might be fun. _

_At the time, I was stupid._

_See, when Geoffrey came to the kitchen, he wasn't alone. No, he came there with a plan. Part of that plan was to move us further into the kitchens, with me to his left, so that I was between him, and the wall. _

I glanced towards the end of what would be Gryffindor table, towards the end that met the far wall, and I could see her, her back to me, her shoulder nearly touching the wall, Hooper crowding her in. My fist tightened under the table.

_If you want, if you're sitting in the kitchen right now, stay where you are. I imagine it's more comfortable than being pressed against the stone wall. _

_I don't know how much of his plan was thought out. Maybe he arrived with just an endgame. A goal. And like I said, Geoffrey is a goofball. So there we were, sitting with our backs to the rest of the kitchen, laughing. At one point he had me laughing so hard that my stomach hurt. I leaned over, touching my forehead to his shoulder, begging him to stop. _

_And that's when his hand touched my knee._

My nails were digging into my palms now, and I was really wondering why I hadn't hit him.

I thought I would probably regret that forever.

_I stopped laughing. I nearly stopped breathing. But I kept my forehead against your shoulder, Geoffrey. There was your hand, on my knee. From out of nowhere. The same way I was grabbed in the astronomy tower. With no warning, no invitation. _

"_What are you doing?" I whispered. _

"_Do you want me to move it?" you asked._

_I didn't answer._

It was too much. Too much to handle. I couldn't take this anymore.

But I would. I had to. I had to finish the tapes. I had to finish her story.

_And I didn't move away from you, either. _

_It was like you and your shoulder weren't connected, anymore. Your shoulder was just a prop to rest my head against while I figured things out. And I couldn't look away as your fingertips caressed my knee... and started moving up._

"_Why are you doing that?" I asked._

_Your shoulder rotated and I lifted my head, but now your arm was behind my back and pulling me close. And your other hand was touching my leg. My upper thigh._

_I looked over to the other tables, to the counters, trying to catch someone's eyes. There were a few students there that night, at the other tables. And a few of them glanced over, but they all looked away._

_Below the table, my fingers were fighting to pry your fingers off. To loosen your grip. To push you away. And I didn't want to yell, or curse you – it wasn't to that level yet – but my eyes were begging for help._

I wanted to slam my fists through the table. I've never physically hit anyone before, relying more on my magic, and if he were standing here right now, I'd beat the shit out of Hooper.

Granger punched me once. And when she did, it seemed like a great stress relief.

I wonder why she didn't punch Hooper.

_But everyone turned away. No one asked if there was a problem. _

_Why? Were they being polite?_

_Was that it, Dean, were you just being polite? _

I hated this. I didn't want to hear how everyone fit together anymore.

"_Stop it," I said. And I know you heard me because, with me looking to the other tables, my mouth was just inches from your ear. "Stop it."_

"_Don't worry," you said. And maybe you knew your time was short because your hand immediately slid up from my thigh. All the way up, under my skirt._

_So I rammed both of my hands into you, and knocked you to the floor._

_Now, when someone falls off a bench, it's kind of funny. It just is. So you'd think people would have started laughing. Unless, of course, they knew it wasn't an accident. So they knew something was going on over there, they just didn't feel like helping. _

_Thanks._

_Anyway, you left. You didn't storm out. Just called me a tease, loud enough for everyone to hear, and walked out. _

_So now, let's back up. To me, sitting at the counter, getting ready to leave. To me, thinking Geoffrey wasn't showing up because he simply didn't care. And I'll tell you what I was thinking then. Because now, it applies even more. _

_For the longest time now, it seemed like I had to care about everyone else so much more than they cared for me. _

_Put all you have into getting that first kiss... only to have it thrown back in your face._

_Have one of the only people you truly trust turn against you, accusing you of betrayal._

_Have someone invade your privacy, your security in the worst possible way._

_And all the while, you have to fight to protect them. You have to work to keep them safe. You have to risk everything to save them from risking anything, but share the rewards of victory._

_Are you getting it now? Am I going too fast?_

_Well, keep up!_

She pauses, slows down a bit. My head is swimming.

_Then come to realize that you're making mountains out of molehills. Realize how petty you've become. Sure, it may feel like you can't get a grip on things. It may seem that every time someone offers you a hand up, they just let you go and you slip further down. But you must stop being so pessimistic, Hermione, and learn to trust those around you._

_So I do. One more time._

_And then... well... certain thoughts begin creeping around. Will I ever get control of my life? Will I always be shoved back and pushed around by those I trust?_

I hate what you did, Granger.

_Will my life ever go where I want it to? Will I always be puppeted and played with?_

You didn't have to do it and I hate the fact that you did.

_The next day, Geoffrey, I decided something. I decided to find out how many people at school might react if one of the students never came back._

I leaned forward and rested my head on the table and closed my eyes.

I was listening to someone give up. Someone I knew. Someone I...

I was listening. But still, I was too late.

I could have done something, Granger. But when I tried, you pushed me away. That night...

I could almost hear Granger's voice in my head, speaking my next thought for me.

"Then why didn't you try harder?"

/

**AN**: Geoffrey Hooper did not play any major part in the books, although he is a canon character. I picked him mainly for his estimated age, but I decided on a minor character after reviewing all of the main and supporting characters and discovering that none of them could _quite _fit the story without wrecking a _lot _of canon. I hope you liked it, anyway. :D

Please review, if you have a moment! I look forward to hearing from all of you!


	8. Cassette 4, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Eight**: Cassette 4, Side A

**AN**: Sorry I was AWOL for two weeks or so! School started, and it's been keeping me pretty busy. I also work two jobs, for the record. Anyway, thanks for waiting patiently! I'm really going to try to keep writing on the side, as long as my school workload will allow it!

A note – Professor Wendell, the Muggle Studies professor mentioned in this chapter, is a non-canon character, as I am fairly certain that Rowling never specified who replaced the original teacher who was killed in the war. If I'm wrong about this, please feel free to correct me.

Special thanks to **VioletLips1221**, **Hans153**, **Claire**, **ashley4948**, **unnamed**, **Annie**, **Noodles2**, **love-them-all10**, **XxDracoEffingMalfoyxX**, **MelanieSummers**, **crdeerw**, and **kirra993 **for reviewing the last chapter! I appreciate them all! :D

/

The elves are still bustling about, their eyes darting to me distrustfully ever few minutes. I stared down at the tape player, trying to find the nerve to change the tape and press play once more. Six stories. I'd been through six stories so far. And none of them had been _so bad _by themselves. But I could see it, the fragile balance, the scales of Granger's life about to tip, and I didn't want to be the one to tip them.

And that was my fear, now that we were almost halfway through. The further we got, the more likely it was that I was _that _one. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and pressed play.

_Muggle Studies... It used to be an elective, but since the war, in an effort to promote tolerance and understanding, it has become part of the standard required curriculum. Which I think is a good idea. _

I nearly snorted at that. She would have thought that. But then, she opted to take the class even when it wasn't required.

_It's a pretty easy Outstanding mark, even if you're not muggleborn, so most people don't mind taking it, and it's a pretty fun class. There's very little homework, and there are bonus points for just participating in class – guessing what certain muggle devices are used for and the like. I mean, Professor Wendell pretty much encourages you to shout out in class. What's not to like?_

_And it's pretty amusing, what some of you think toaster ovens or film projectors are used for. _

_After feeling more and more outcast, before _and _after the war, Muggle Studies was a sort of safe haven at school. Whenever I walked into that room, I felt like the weight had just lifted right off of my shoulders._

_For one period each day, you were not allowed to touch me, or whisper about me, or snicker behind my back no matter what the latest rumour – although by this point most of them were either revivals of the old ones, or speculations about what I may have done during the war, which was often worse._

I know the feeling, Granger.

_Professor Wendell did not stand for snickering. That was rule number one, day one, when we came back. If anyone snickered at what anyone else, they owed Professor Wendell a Snickers bar. And if it was an extremely rude snicker, they owed her a King Size._

Snickers bars were these foreign muggle candy bars. They were pretty good, but they were a pain in the arse to get hold of from the castle, especially. That was probably why most people refrained from laughing, I thought. If it had been a pack of Droobles or a licorice wand, I don't know how well that policy would have worked.

_Everyone paid up without argument. If Professor Wendell accused you of snickering, you did. And you knew it. She didn't pick on people. And at least within the week, no matter how difficult they were to come by, there would be a Snickers bar waiting on her desk. _

_And if there wasn't? I don't know. There always was._

I took the remaining tapes out of my pocket, blue nail polish labeling them nine and ten, eleven and twelve. My story had to be soon.

_Professor Wendell said that Muggle Studies was her favorite class to teach – or moderate, as she called it. Each day we had a short reading assignment, full of the names of Muggle inventors or philosophers, and their magical counterparts, and explanations. Then, we discussed. _

The last tape, the seventh tape, had a thirteen on one side but nothing on the other. I put this tape back in my pocket.

_But the class wasn't just about muggles and their lifestyle. After the war, it also became about learning about and accepting each other. Nothing was off limits. Bullying. Self-image. Relationships. Everything was fair game. Which, of course, made a lot of the other professors upset. It was a waste of time, they said. Most of them wanted Professor Wendell to stick to her subject, and her subject only._

_They wanted to teach us how to brew a Healing potion, or teach us charm a teapot to sing like a bird, as opposed to helping us better understand ourselves and each other. They wanted us to know when laws were passed in the Ministry – never mind what they were – as opposed to discussing our problems with us. _

_But that's not really the point, is it? Something had to have happened in that class, right? Otherwise, why would you be listening to me talk about it?_

_Next year, after my little incident, I hope Muggle Studies continues. There will be people who think that if this class played a part in my decision, then maybe it should be cut. But it shouldn't. But it wasn't really the class itself that played a part. Even if I had never taken Muggle Studies, the outcome may very well have been the same._

_Or not._

_I guess that's the point of it all. No one knows for sure how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same. _

_At the back of Professor Wendell's classroom there was a wire book rack. The kind that spins and holds cheap one-time-print entertainment reading at the bookstore. But this rack never held books. Instead, to help with tolerance and harmony among the students, we each received a paper bag to decorate and hung them on the rack with a couple of pieces of tape. _

_Professor Wendell knew that people had a difficult time saying nice things to each other, so she devised a way for us to anonymously say what we felt. _

"I know it wasn't your fault."

That was what one of my few notes had said. I kept it in my wallet.

_Did you admire the way so-and-so talked openly about something about their family? Drop a note in their bag and tell them. Did you think someone said something really insightful? Drop them a note._

_Did you hear that they got a really good grade in another subject, maybe one that they'd had to study really hard for?_

_Did you like their new haircut?_

She got a haircut. In the photo at the Three Broomsticks, Granger's hair was long. That's how I always pictured it. Even now. But that's not how it was at the end.

_If you can, tell them to their face. But if you can't, drop them a note and they'll feel it just the same. And as far as I know, no one ever left a mean or sarcastic note in anyone's bag. We had too much respect for what Professor Wendell was doing, in the aftermath of the war, to do that._

_So, Seamus Finnegan, what's your excuse?_

The tape stopped.

What? What happened?

Oh gods. I looked up to find Longbottom standing beside me, his finger on the pause button.

"A tape player, Malfoy?" he asked. I didn't say anything, but something about his question struck me as odd. Longbottom was a pureblood, as hopeless as he was as a wizard. How did he know what this thing was? I couldn't remember Professor Wendell covering it in any of her classes, because then why would Granger have included an explanation of what it was?

It was difficult to read the expression on his face. Confusion? Maybe. But if it is, it's more than that. It's the same look he gave me when he saw me by the greenhouses. When he was watching me instead of the plant gnawing at his hands.

Worry. Concern. Maybe?

"Longbottom," I finally said in acknowledgment. I pulled the headphones from my head and let them hang around my neck. The tape player. Right. He asked about the tape player. "Yeah... it was a gift?" I couldn't stop the lilting hint of a question at the end. Longbottom raised his eyebrow at me.

I'm an idiot.

He rested his hand on the tabletop and sat on the bench next to me. I eyed him, wanting to tell him to just go away, to mind his own business. He looked into my eyes. Could he tell what a horrible liar I was?

His gaze fell to the headphones around my neck, then followed the long cord down to the player on the table. I silently prayed that he wouldn't ask what I was listening to.

"Just don't get caught in the halls after hours," he said finally. "And try the blueberry pie. It's excellent."

"Thanks," I said hesitantly. That was odd, wasn't it?

"No need to rush," he said. He tapped the table twice idly and then stands up, moving to one of the other tables.

I waited a moment for him to sit down, his back to me, and then I pressed play.

_Don't worry, Seamus. You never left anything mean in my bag. I know that. But what you did do, was worse. _

From what I knew, which was actually very little, Seamus was generally considered a pretty good guy. A little spazzy, always blowing something up in classes on accident, but in every other aspect too boring for people to even want to gossip about.

And... he always had a thing for Granger, although I don't think she realized it.

_But first, let's go back a few weeks. Let's go back... to that night in the kitchens._

My stomach pulled in tight. I closed my eyes and concentrated on bringing myself back to normal. But I hadn't felt normal in hours. Even the lids of my eyes felt warm, as though my whole body were fighting sickness.

_I just sat there, at the table where Geoffrey left me, staring into my empty glass. His side of the bench was probably still warm because he'd left only a minute ago. When up walked Seamus. _

_And down he sat. _

I opened my eyes to the largely empty kitchen. I looked over to Gryffindor table. Empty.

_I pretended not to notice him. Not because I had anything against him, but because my heart and my trust were in the process of collapsing. And that collapse had created a vacuum in my chest. Like every nerve in my body was withering in, pulling away from my fingers and toes. Pulling back, and disappearing. _

My eyes burned. A nervous-looking elf approached me cautiously, setting a glass of pumpkin juice down in front of me. I nodded to him and he scurried off. I reached forward and slid a hand down the frosted glass. Ice-cold droplets clung to my skin and I ran my wet finger across my eyelids, hoping to sooth the burn.

_I sat. And I thought. And the more that I thought, connecting the events in my life, the more my heart collapsed. _

_Seamus was sweet. He went on letting me ignore him until it became almost comical. I knew that he was there, of course. He was practically staring at me. And eventually, melodramatically, he cleared his throat. _

_I lifted my hand onto the table and touched the base of my glass. That was the only sign he was going to get that I was listening._

I pulled my glass closer and stared into it, trying to decide if I actually wanted to drink it or not.

_He asked if I was alright, and I forced myself to nod. But my eyes kept staring at my glass – through the glass – at the spoon. And I kept thinking, over and over, is this what it feels like to go insane?_

"_I'm sorry," he said. "For whatever happened just now."_

_I felt my head continue to nod as if it was attached to heavy springs, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I appreciated his words._

_He asked me if I wanted him to get one of the elves to bring me another milkshake, but I gave him no response. Was I unable to talk? Or did I just not want to talk? I don't know. Part of me thought he was hitting on me – ready to use the fact that I was now alone to ask me out. And it's not that I completely believed that, but why should I trust him?_

Because he was your friend, Granger. He was part of Dumbledore's Army, and he fought alongside the Order.

_An elf came and took my empty glass away, and after a few more minutes I guess Seamus gave up, and he left to return to his friends._

I just kept staring into my juice. I don't think I want it, but I don't want it taken away. It gives me a reason to sit here. To stay here.

_My eyes began tearing up, but I couldn't break my stare from the small wet circle where my glass had been. If I even tried to utter a single word, I would have lost it. _

_Or had I already lost it?_

I kept staring.

_I can tell you this, at that table, the worst thoughts in the world first entered my mind. I had survived the war... some of the most horrific events imaginable. But at that table, it was like the final straw had fallen, and I first started to consider... to consider... a word that I still cannot say._

_I know that you tried coming to my rescue, Seamus. But we all know that's not why you're on this tape. So I have one question before we continue. When you try rescuing someone and discover that they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?_

_For the past several days, or weeks, or however long it took you to get theses tapes, Seamus, you probably thought no one would ever find out. _

I lowered my face into my hands, shaking my head slowly. How many secrets could there be in this school?

_You probably got sick to your stomach when you heard what I did. But the more time that went by, the better you felt. Because the more time that went by, the more likely your secret died with me. No one knew. No one would ever find out._

But now we would. And my stomach got a little sicker.

_Let me ask you, Seamus, did you think that I turned you down in the kitchens? I mean, you never got around to asking me out, so I couldn't officially turn you down, right? So what was it? Embarrassment?_

_Let me guess. You told your friends to watch while you put the moves on me... and then I hardly responded. _

_Or was it a dare? Did they dare you to ask me out?_

People did that, since the war. Ask out Granger the War Hero, or Granger the Slag, whichever story was their favorite. Blaise recently dared me to ask her out. He knew that I...

I swallowed hard.

He knew that for the past few months, Granger hardly spoke to anyone, making it a challenge. He also thought that it would be hilarious, a former Death Eater asking out a war hero.

_When I broke out of my daze, and before I left, I listened in on you and your friends. They were teasing you for not getting that date that you assured them was in the bag. _

_I will give you credit where it's due, Seamus. You could have gone back to your friends and said, "Hermione's a freak. Look at her. She's staring into Neverland."_

_Instead, you took the teasing. _

_But you must have a slow boil, getting more and more angry – taking it more and more personally – the longer you thought about my non-responsiveness. And you chose to get back at me in the most childish of ways._

_You stole my paper bag notes of encouragement._

How pathetic.

_So what tipped my off? It's simple, really. Everyone else was getting notes. Everyone! And for the most insignificant of things. Anytime someone even got a haircut, they got a bunch of notes. And there were people in the class that I considered friends who would have put something in my bag after I chopped off most of my hair. _

When she first walked by me in the halls, with her hair cut so much shorter, I couldn't keep my mouth from falling open. And she looked away. Out of habit, she tried brushing the hair out of her face and behind her ears. But it was too short and kept falling forward.

_Come to think of it, I cut my hair the very day that Geoffrey Hooper and I met in the kitchens. _

_That's odd. All those warning signs they tell us to watch for, they're true. I went straight from the kitchens to Hogsmeade, and got my hair cut. I needed a change, just like they said, so I changed my appearance. The only think I still had control over._

_Amazing._

She was quiet, then. Silence. Just static, barely audible, in the headphones.

_I'm sure the school had people come in loaded with handouts, telling you what to look for in students who might be considering..._

Another pause.

_No. Like I said before, I still can't say it._

Suicide. Such a disgusting word.

_The next day, when I found my bag empty, I knew something was up. At least, I thought something was up. The first few months of class I received maybe four or five notes. But suddenly, after the telltale haircut... nothing. _

_So after my haircut, I waited a week. _

_Then two weeks._

_Then three weeks. _

_Nothing._

I pushed my glass away and in a second the elf who delivered it had taken it again.

_It was time to find out what was going on. So I wrote myself a note._

"_Hermione," the note said. "Like the new haircut. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner." And for good measure, I added a purple smiley face._

_To avoid the major embarrassment of getting caught leaving myself a note, I also wrote a note for the bag next to mine. And after class, I walked to the book rack and made a show of dropping a note in that other bag. Then I casually ran my hand around the inside of my bag. Then I casually ran my hand around the inside of my bag, pretending to check for notes. And I say "pretending" because I knew it would be empty. _

_And the next day? Nothing in my bag. The note was gone._

_Maybe it didn't seem like a big deal to you, Seamus. But now, I hope you understand. My world was collapsing. I needed those notes. I needed any hope those notes might have offered._

_And you? You took that hope away. You decided that I didn't deserve to have it._

The longer I listened to these tapes, the more I felt I knew her. Not the Granger from the past few years, but the one from the past few months. That's the Granger I was beginning to understand.

Granger at the end.

The last time I found myself this close to a person, a person slowly dying, was that night... The night I watched the duel in Hogsmeade.

Then, like now, I didn't know they were dying.

Then, like now, there were people around. But what could they have done? Those people standing around the dueling wizards, trying to calm them, waiting to see what would come of it... could they have done anything at all?

Or the people who passed Granger in the halls, or sat beside her in class, what could they have done?

Maybe then, like now, it was already too late.

_So, Seamus, how many of those notes did you take? How many notes were there that I never got to read? And did you read them? I hope so. At least someone should know what people really think of me. _

I glanced up again. Longbottom was still sitting at one of the other tables, slowly eating a piece of pie.

_I admit, during class discussions I didn't open up much, unless a straightforward question was asked. But when I did, did anyone thank me by dropping a note in my bag? That would have been nice to know. In fact, it might have encouraged me to open up even more._

This wasn't fair. If Seamus had any idea what Granger was going through, he wouldn't have stolen her notes, would he?

_The day my self-written note went missing, I stood outside the classroom door and started talking to someone I'd never spoken with before. I looked over her shoulder every few seconds, watching the other students check their bags for notes._

_That sure looked like a lot of fun, Seamus._

_And that's when I caught you. With a single finger, you touched the lip of my bag and tilted it down just enough to peek inside. _

_Nothing._

_So you headed toward the door without checking your own bag, which I found very interesting._

_Of course, that didn't prove anything. Maybe you just liked seeing who was getting notes and who wasn't... with a particular interest in me. _

A flimsy theory, Granger.

_So the next day, I came into Professor Wendell's room during lunch. I took my paper bag off of the rack and reattached it with the tiniest sliver of tape. Inside, I placed a little note folded in half._

_Again, when class was over, I waited outside and watched. But I didn't talk to anyone this time. I just watched._

The perfect setup.

_You touched the lip of my bag, saw the note, and reached in. The bag fell to the floor and your face turned bright red. But you bent down and scooped it up anyway. And my reaction? Disbelief. I mean, I saw it. I expected it, even. But I still couldn't believe it._

_While my original plan called for me to confront you right then and there, I jumped to the side – out of the doorway._

_In a hurry, you rounded the corner... and there we were. Face-to-face. My eyes stung as I stared at you. Then I broke that stare and lowered my head. And you took off down the hall._

She didn't want him to explain. There was no explanation. She saw it with her own eyes.

_When you were halfway down the hall, still walking fast, I saw you look down as if reading something. My note? Yes._

_You turned for just a moment to see if I was watching. And for that moment, I was scared. Would you confront me and tell me you were sorry? Would you yell at me?_

_The answer? None of the above. You just turned and kept walking, getting closer and closer to the doors leading outside, closer to your escape. _

_And as I stood there in the hallway – alone – trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation – not even a reaction. Not in your eyes, Seamus._

She paused.

_For the rest of you listening, the note was addressed to Seamus by name. Maybe he sees it now as a prologue to these tapes. Because in there, I admitted that I was at a point in my life where I really could have used any encouragement anyone might have left me. Encouragement... that he stole. _

I bit my thumb, calming the urge to look around me. At the elves, at Longbottom. Did they wonder what I'm listening to? Did they care?

_But I couldn't take it anymore. You see, Seamus isn't the only one with a slow boil. _

_I shouted after him, "Why?"_

_In the corridor, there were a few people changing classes. All of them jumped. But only one of them stopped. And he stood there, facing me, cramming my note into his pocket. _

_I screamed that word over and over again. Tears, finally spilling over, ran down my face. "Why? Why, Seamus?"_

I heard about that. Granger flipping out for no apparent reason, embarrassing herself in front of so many people.

But they were wrong. There was a reason.

_So now, let's get personal. In the spirit of opening up – of full disclosure – let me offer you this: My parents love me. I know they do. But things have not been easy recently. Being away from them at school is always hard... But then there was the war... and I took their memories. _

_Such a violation. They haven't forgiven me, even though they've been restored. I know it. I can see it in their eyes every time they look at me. They talk to me, but not like before._

_When I cut my hair, I floo'd my mom. She didn't even notice._

I noticed.

_I wanted someone to notice. I wanted Seamus to notice the deeper meaning in my note. Wanted my mother to notice how drastic my haircut was. _

_I wanted someone to point a finger at me and say, "Hermione, are you thinking of hurting yourself? Please don't do that, Hermione. Please?"_

_But deep down, the truth was that they only person saying that was me. Deep down, those were my words. _

The tape ended. I rubbed my eyes furiously and opened them again to see Longbottom still sitting at his table. His pie was gone. He sat there, completely unaware of what I'm going through.

I opened the player, and flipped the tape.

/

**AN**: Please review! I'd love to hear what you think!

The next chapter should be posted tomorrow, if all goes well!


	9. Cassette 4, Side B

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Nine**: Cassette 4, Side B

**AN**: Whew. For a moment I didn't think I would get this posted by the day I said I would. But I made it. Hope you all enjoy it!

Special thanks to **The Forgotten Child**,** XxDracoEffingMalfoyxX**, **Harlight**, **Noodles2**, **embirsiphonelilathia **(that is _quite _the name you've got there, eh? XD), **Morgan**, **Hyruleepona**, and **ashley4948** for reviewing! I really loved hearing from each and every one of you!

/

_Would you want the ability to hear other people's thoughts?_

_Of course you would. Everyone answers yes to that question, until they think it all the way through. _

_For example, what if other people could hear your thoughts? What if they could hear your thoughts... right now?_

They would have heard confusion. Frustration. Even some anger. They would have heard the words of a dead girl running through my head. A girl who, for some reason, blames me for her suicide.

_Sometimes we have thoughts that even we don't understand. Thoughts that aren't even true – that aren't really how we feel – but they're running through our heads anyway because they're interesting to think about._

At his table, Longbottom wiped his hands on a napkin. I had no idea what he was thinking. And he had no idea about me. He had no idea that the voice in my head, the voice coming through the tape player, belongs to Hermione Granger.

_If you could hear other people's thoughts, you'd overhear things that are true as well as things that are completely random. And you wouldn't know one from the other. It would drive you insane. What's true? What's not? A million ideas, but what do they mean?_

_That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings. Is it a stand-in – a symbol – for another idea? Does it fit into a larger, more hidden, metaphor?_

I don't understand poetry, and I never have had a taste for it at all.

This was the eighth story. If it was about poetry, it wasn't about me. And there were only five names to go.

_I hated poetry all through school in the muggle world, no matter how many poetry units were thrown at me. It frustrated me, that it wasn't all black-and-white, straight-forward. That you couldn't _learn_ it. But then, earlier this year, someone showed me how to appreciate it. He told me to see poetry as a puzzle. It's up to the reader to decipher the code, or the words, based on everything they know about life and emotions. And I've always liked a good puzzle._

_Did the poet use red to symbolize blood? Anger? Lust? Or is the wheelbarrow simply red because red sounded better than black?_

_The same person who taught me to appreciate poetry also taught me the value in writing it. And honestly, there is no better way to explore your emotions than with poetry. _

Or tapes.

_If you're angry, you don't have to write a poem dealing with the cause of your anger. But it needs to be an angry poem. So go ahead... write one. I know you're at least a little bit angry with me. _

_And when you're done with your poem, decipher it as if you've just found it printed somewhere and knew absolutely nothing about its author. The results can be amazing... and scary. But it's always cheaper than a therapist._

Maybe you could have used a therapist, Granger.

_I bought a spiral notebook to keep all of my poems in one place. A couple of days a week, after classes, I'd go to the Three Broomsticks and write a poem or two. _

_My first few attempts were a bit sad. Not to much depth or subtlety. Pretty straight-forward. But still, some came out fairly well. At least, I think they did. _

_Then, without even trying, I memorized the very first poem in that notebook. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to shake it from my head, even today. So here it is, for your appreciation... or amusement._

_If my love were an ocean,  
>there would be no more land.<br>If my lover were a desert,  
>you would see only sand.<br>If my love were a star—  
>late at night, only light.<br>And if my love could grow wings,  
>I'd be soaring in flight. <em>

_Go ahead. Laugh. But you know you'd buy it if you saw it on a greeting card._

There was now a sudden ache deep inside of my chest.

_Just knowing I'd be going to the Three Broomsticks to write poetry made the days more bearable. Something funny, shocking, or hurtful might happen and I'd think, this is going to make for one fascinating poem._

Longbottom stood up and made his way towards the door. He didn't look back at me, which seemed weird after he had gone out of his way to speak to me when he came in.

_To me, I suppose, these tapes are a form of poetic therapy. _

Longbottom leaves, letting the portrait swing shut again behind him, and other than the elves I was left alone in the kitchen.

_As I tell you these stories, I'm discovering certain things. Things about myself, yes, but also about you. All of you. And the closer we get to the end, the more connections I'm discovering. Deep connections. Some that I've told you about, linking one story to the next. While others, I haven't told you about at all. _

_Maybe you've even discovered some connections that I haven't. Maybe you're one step ahead of the poet._

No, Granger. I was barely keeping up.

_And when I say my final words... well, probably not my final words, but the last words on these tapes... it's going to be one tight, well-connected, emotional ball of words._

_In other words: a poem._

_Looking back, I stopped writing in my notebook when I stopped wanting to know myself anymore. If you hear a song that makes you cry and you don't want to cry anymore, you don't listen anymore. _

_But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head._

I did. I hit stop on the tape, my head swimming as I tried to get a firm hold of my thoughts.

I remembered when Granger forgave me. She was, as far as I knew, the only one who had.

We were in the Potions room, both of us finishing up our work silently, the rest of the class having filed out a few minutes before. I kept casting furtive looks at her, sure that she must be about to hex me now that we were alone, with no witnesses – it was what anyone else would have done.

But she didn't look at me. She just worked on, focusing on her work, evidently unconcerned about being left alone with a former Death Eater. I returned to my potion, making a point not to look at her again.

"Malfoy," she said after a moment, and I nearly jumped out of my skin because she was now standing next to me, and I hadn't even heard her approach. "Sorry," she said quietly, and she really looked it. "Can I borrow your scales? Mine seem off."

I nodded dumbly and she took my scales carefully from the table, returning to her own. And then we worked in silence again. Five minutes went by and then my scales were being returned, sat down with a small clink.

"Thank you," she said politely, and then her eyes met mine and I thought that she might say something else.

But she didn't. She just sighed and turned towards her table again.

"Granger," I blurted out, wincing when she turned around. I had started it, and now I had to tell her. "I'm sorry. For my part."

She bit her lip, and I knew that she understood what I meant. And then she nodded, which I appreciated more than if she had said that it was okay, because it wasn't.

She finished up her work and then stayed after, making small talk with me. It wasn't much, but I enjoyed it, because few people wanted to talk to me anymore. And then this became our routine, almost every Potions class.

Those moments, however brief, made me feel... special. Hermione Granger chose to spend her free moments with me. And because we were working on our potions, no one would think anything of it. No one could read into it.

But why? Why, whenever anyone saw us, did I pretend it meant nothing? We were working, that's what I wanted them to believe. Not hanging out, just working.

Why?

Because Granger and I both had reputations. And the possible repercussions of those reputations scared me.

The truth first came to light a few weeks ago, at a party, with Granger directly in front of me. An amazing moment when everything seemed to be falling into place.

Looking down into her eyes, I couldn't help telling her I was sorry, again. This time for waiting so long to let her know how I felt.

For a brief moment, I was able to admit it. To her. To myself. But I could never admit it again. Until now.

But now, it was too late.

And that was why, right at that moment, I felt so much hate. Towards myself. I deserved to be on this list. Because if I hadn't been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Granger... Hermione... I might have told Hermione that someone cared. And Hermione might still be alive.

I pressed play again.

_Sometimes I would stop my the Three Broomsticks for a drink after school. I'd start my homework, or I'd read. But I wasn't writing poetry anymore._

_I needed a break... from myself._

I slid my hand from under my chin to the back of my neck. The bottom strands of my hair are drenched in sweat.

_But I loved poetry. I missed it. And one day, after several weeks, I decided to use poetry to make myself happy. _

_Happy poems. Bright and cheerful sunshiny poems. Happy, happy, happy. Like the two women pictured on the flier pinned up at the Three Broomsticks._

_They taught a free course in the village called "Poetry: To Love Life". They promised to teach not only how to love poetry, but through poetry, how to better love ourselves._

_Sign me up!_

_It's the sixth star on your map. The community room at the public library in Hogsmeade._

I looked at my watch. It would be closed now, surely.

_The poetry class began at the same time that my last class ended at the castle, so I'd race over there to try to make it without being too late. But even when I was late, everyone was happy to have me there – to provide the "feminine teen perspective", they called it. _

_Imagine ten or twelve orange chairs arranged in a circle, with the happy women from the flier sitting at opposite ends. Only problem was, from day one, they weren't happy. Someone, whoever made that flier, must have charmed their frowns upside down._

_They wrote about death. About the evilness of men. About the destruction of – and I quote – "the greenish, bluish orb with wisps of white."_

_Seriously, that's how they described it. They went on to call Earth a knocked-up gaseous alien needing an abortion. I could not make this stuff up if I wanted to._

Another reason I hated poetry. Who said "orb" instead of "ball" or "sphere"?

"_Expose yourself," they said. "Let us see your deepest and your darkest."_

_My deepest and darkest? What are you, my gynecologist?_

_So many times I wanted to raise my hand and say, "Um, so, when do we get to the happy stuff? The stuff about loving life? You know, Poetry: To Love Life? That's what they flier said. That's why I'm here."_

_In the end, I only made it through three of those poetry groups. But something did come of it. Something good?_

I was willing to bet no.

_Hmm... I wonder._

_See, someone else was in that group. Another student with a perspective adored by the older poets. Who was it? The editor of our school's very own _Lost-N-Found Gazette_._

The _Lost-N-Found Gazette_ was a publication that had been started this year by none other than Ron Weasley. I guess he was bored and wanted to start some sort of mayhem like his older brothers, but lacked their originality, so he had to use other people's.

_You know who I'm talking about. And I'm sure you, Mr. Editor, can't wait for me to say your name out loud. _

_So here you go, Ron Weasley. The truth shall set you free._

The motto of the _Lost-N-Found. _

_We have our history, don't we Ron? But this tape isn't about that. So I'll stick to just this story. The rest... is irrelevant. _

_Now, you've known this for a while, Ron. I'm sure of it. At the first mention of poetry, you knew this one was about you. You had to. Though I'm sure you must have thought, this can't be why I'm on the tapes. It wasn't a big deal._

The poem. Gods, it was hers.

_Remember, this is one tight, well-connected, emotional ball I'm constructing here. _

I closed my eyes tight, covering them with my hand. I crushed my teeth together, jaw muscles burning, to keep from screaming. Or crying. I didn't want her to read it. I didn't want to hear that poem in her voice.

_Would you like to hear the last poem I wrote before quitting poetry? Before quitting poetry for good?_

No.

_No?_

No.

_Fine. But you've already read it. It's very popular at our school. _

I allowed my eyelids, my jaw, to relax.

The poem. It was pretty popular for awhile. Nearly everyone read it. People discussed it, openly.

And Hermione was there for it all.

_Some of you may recall it now. Not word for word, but you know what I'm talking about. The _Lost-N-Found Gazette. _Ron's semiannual collection of items found lying around the castle._

_Like a love letter tossed under a desk, never discovered by its intended love. If Ron found it, he'd scratch out the names and copy it off into the new issue. Photos that fell out of books and bags... he copied them, too. History notes covered in doodles by an extremely bored student... yup, he copied them. _

_Some people may wonder how Ron found so many interesting items to copy. Did he really find them all? Or did he steal them? I asked him that very question once, after one of the poetry meetings. And he swore that everything he published was purely found by chance. _

_Sometimes, he admitted, people did slip items they found to him, after the first paper came out. Those, he said, he couldn't vouch for one hundred percent. That's why he scratched out names and personal information. And photographs, as a rule, couldn't be too embarrassing._

_He'd gather five or six pages of good, quirky material, and put together maybe fifty copies. Then he'd staple them together and drop them off at random places throughout the school. Restrooms. Classes. Outside the greenhouses. _

"_Never in the same spot," he said. He thought it would be fitting for people to stumble across them the way he stumbled across the content. _

_But guess what? My poem? He stole it._

Low, Weasel.

_Each week, after our poetry group, Ron and I would sit on the library steps and talk. We weren't as close as we had been, before we broke up, and it was nice to spend some time with him as friends again. The first week we just laughed about the poems the other people had written and read. We laughed about how depressing they all were._

"_Wasn't this supposed to make us happy?" he asked. Apparently, he signed up for the same reason as me. _

_We all... had trouble after the war._

I look up. The house elves are done cleaning, and the kitchen is almost completely empty now. It's probably time to get ready to leave.

_After the second week of class, we sat on those steps and read some of our own poems to each other. Poems we'd written at different points in our lives. But only happy poems. Poems about loving life. Poems we would never read to that depression-loving group of miserable poets inside. _

_And, as poets never do, we explained ourselves. Line for line._

_The third week, we took the biggest chance of all as poets and handed each other our entire notebooks of poetry. _

_That took a lot of courage. For me, definitely. I'm sure for your, too, Ron. And for the next couple of hours, with the sun going down, we sat on those steps, turning pages._

_Ron's handwriting is terrible, so it took me a bit longer to read through his poems. But they were shockingly good. I know he doesn't seem like it would be his sort of thing, and I'm the first to admit that he has the emotional range of a teaspoon, but they were amazing. Much better than mine. _

_His sounded like real poetry. Professional poetry. And someday, I'm sure of it, little kids in the muggle world will be forced to analyze his poems out of a textbook – edited for magic, I'm sure._

_Of course, I had no idea what his poems meant. Not exactly. But I felt the emotions precisely. They were absolutely beautiful. And I felt ashamed of what he must have been thinking as he went through my notebook, because reading through his, I realized how little time I'd spent on mine. I should have taken the time to choose better words. More emotional words. _

_But one of my poems grabbed him. And he wanted to know more about it... like when I wrote it. _

_But I didn't tell him._

_So then Ron wanted to know why I wrote the poem. _

_With that one, I told him, the poem had to speak for itself. But I was interested in knowing what he thought it meant._

_He said that at first he thought the poem was about acceptance – acceptance from my mother. But more than that, I wanted her approval. And I wanted certain people – in this case a boy – to stop overlooking me._

A boy?

_I asked if he thought it meant anything deeper._

_Part of me was joking. I thought he'd figured out my poem exactly. But I wanted to know what a teacher assigning the poem might want his or her students to discover. Because teachers always overdo it._

_But you found it, Ron, which surprised me. You found the hidden meaning. You found what even I couldn't find in my own poem. _

_The poem wasn't about my mom, you said. Or a boy. It was about me. I was writing a letter to myself... hidden in a poem._

_I flinched when you told me that. I got defensive – even angry. But you were right. And I felt sad, and scared, by my own words. _

_You told me that I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating me and everything that I had done, of not accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror._

"_And the boy?" I asked. "What does he represent?"_

It was me. Gods. It was me. I knew that now.

I covered my ears. Not to block out any noise. The kitchen was almost completely silent. But I wanted to feel her words, all of them, as they were said.

_While I waited for your answer, I searched my bag for tissue. At any moment, I knew I might cry._

_You told me that no boy was overlooking me more than I was overlooking myself. At least, that was what you thought it meant. And that's why you asked about the poem. You felt it went deeper than you could figure out._

_Well, Ron, you were right. It went much, much deeper than that. And if you knew that – if that's what you thought – then why did you steal my notebook? Why did you print my poem, the poem that you yourself called "scary" in the _Lost-N-Found_? Why did you let other people read it?_

And dissect it. And make fun of it.

_It was never a lost poem, Ron. And you never found it, so it did not belong in your collection. _

_But in your collection is exactly where other people found it. That's where a school full of students cut up my poem, searching for it's meaning, or mocking it. _

_So now, you know. And for those of you who need a refresher, here it is. "Soul Alone" by Hermione Granger._

_I meet your eyes  
>you don't even see me<br>You hardly respond  
>when I whisper<br>hello  
>Could be my soul mate<br>two kindred spirits  
>Maybe we're not<br>I guess we'll never  
>know<em>

_My own mother  
>you carried me in you<br>Now you see nothing  
>but what I wear<br>People ask you  
>how I am doing<br>You smile and nod  
>don't let it end<br>there_

_Put me  
>underneath God's sky and<br>know me  
>don't just see me with your eyes<br>Take away  
>this mask of flesh and bone<br>see me  
>for my soul<em>

_alone_

Hermione paused at the end and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the words back out. I don't want to hear it. Not again.

_And now you know why. _

_So, did you dissect me properly? Were you right? Did you have any clue at all that it was me?_

_Yes, some of you did. Ron must have told someone – proud that his collection had generated such a buzz. But when people asked me about it, I refused to confirm it or deny it. Which pissed some of them off. _

_Some even wrote parodies of my poem, reading them to me in the hopes of getting under my skin. _

I had seen that. I watched two girls in Potions recite a version before the bell rang.

_It was all so stupid and childish... and cruel._

They were relentless, bringing new poems every day for an entire week. Hermione did her best to ignore them, pretending to read while waiting for Professor Slughorn to arrive. For the start of class to come to her rescue.

_This doesn't seem like a big deal, does it?_

_No, maybe not to you. But the wizarding world in general, and even Hogwarts hadn't been a safe haven of mine for a very long time. And after your photo escapades, Dennis, my own room was no longer secure. Now, suddenly, even my own thoughts were being offered up for ridicule. _

Once, in Potions, when those girls were teasing her, Hermione looked up. Her eyes caught mine for just a moment. A flash. But she knew I was watching her. And even thought no one else saw it, I turned away.

She was on her own.

_Very nice, Ron. Thank you. You're a true friend._

There was a pause, and I almost stopped the tape, but then she spoke again.

_And Ron, dear, go ahead and let Harry listen to these tapes. Knowing you, he may be listening even now. But he deserves to know, and he doesn't have his own story. You'll do that for me, right? For old times' sake, when we were the Golden Trio? Thanks._

Her voice stopped again, and this time it did not reappear. I stopped the tape, taking off the headphones to hang them around my neck again.

"Sir," an elf squeaked and I looked down to find a particularly small one, his head just level with the bench, gazing up at me. "Sir, the kitchen is closing. I am sorry, but you are going to have to leave, Sir."

I nodded and grabbed the tape player, swapping the tapes as I walked towards the exit before stowing it back in my pocket.

**/**

**AN**: The next story is a very important one... one we've all been waiting for... I'm hinting pretty heavily here, so I'm sure you all know which one I mean. There's also a bit of a plot twist. I hope you're all looking forward to it! Because it's such a big one, I'll try to have it up by Thursday morning. Remember, I'm a busy busy bee, so that's actually pretty soon for me. Haha.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! I know Ron doesn't seem like the poetry type but... well, to be honest, I wanted to make sure that he got the tapes, and every other spot was taken. And stealing the poem for his own fame does seem like a very Ron-like thing to do, doesn't it?

So yeah, review if you have a moment! :D


	10. Cassette 5, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Ten**: Cassette 5, Side A

**AN**: This, friends, is where we _really_ start drifting from canon. Get ready. I'll try not to make it too, "lolwut" though. Haha.

Major thanks to **love-them-all10**, **Alyce**, **Clover**, **semantics**, **ICorona23**, **ashley4948**, **Erica**, **Chewy518**, **XxDracoEffingMalfoyxX**, **Morgan**, **Noodles2**, **The Forgotten Child**, **Aftermath11**, **Kira**, and **crdeerw** for reviewing the last chapter! You guys make me so happy! I had a lot of really good questions from some of you, and I'm going to be sending out individual replies tomorrow, even though the next chapter is posted!

/

The portrait of the bowl of fruit swung shut behind me, and I heard it lock in place. Where should I go? To my room? Back to the Three Broomsticks? Or maybe I'd go to the library after all. I could sit outside on the steps. Listen to the remainder of the tapes in the dark.

"Malfoy."

It was Longbottom.

He was leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Now that I really looked at him, he looked worn down, stressed. But I didn't feel like talking. Not then. Not during all of this. And not with Longbottom.

He and I had never really talked. He was an abysmal wizard in pretty much every subject except for Herbology, and he was a constant source of amusement in classes. I had made fun of him a few times, thrown the occasional insult his way. But we'd never had anything that could really be called a conversation.

Now, I was afraid, he wanted to have one. He'd been standing there this whole time, just waiting for me to leave the kitchens. What else could he want?

He wouldn't look at me. Instead, he stares at the floor and tugs at his tie, loosening it. Then he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the stone of the wall for a moment before shoving off of it to start down the corridor.

"Come with me, Malfoy."

"Everything all right?" I asked.

After a short pause, slowly, he nodded.

I caught up with him and match my pace to his, curious against my will as to what he wanted.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry, Malfoy," he said in response. He rolled down his sleeves as he walked, leading me up the stairs and towards the Great Hall. "It's cold outside," he said by way of explanation. He still wasn't looking at me.

"You're the ninth person I've had to follow, Malfoy," he said after a moment.

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew what he meant.

"The set of pensieves," he said. "Hermione wasn't bluffing. I have them."

"Oh gods," I groaned. Behind my eyebrow, my head was pounding now. With the base of my palm I pressed on it hard.

"It's alright," he said. I couldn't look at him. What did he know? About me? What had he heard? What had he seen?

"What's okay?" I asked.

"What were you listening to in there?"

"What?"

"Which tape?" he asked, pushing open the heavy doors to the grounds now. I could try to deny it, pretend I have no clue what he's talking about. Or I could just turn around and leave, head back up to my room. But either way, he knew.

"It's alright, Malfoy. Honest. Which tape?" he repeated.

With my eyes still shut, I pressed my knuckles against my forehead. "Weasley's," I said. "Ron's. The poem." I looked at him. He looked up at the night sky through the open doors, and then his eyes slid shut, as though he was trying to remember something.

"What?" I asked. No answer. "Why'd she give them to you?"

He opened his eyes and gazed across the grounds once more. "Can you listen to the next tape while we walk?" he asked.

"Tell me why she gave them to you first," I countered stubbornly.

"I'll tell you," he said, "if you'll just listen to the next tape right now."

"Why?"

"Malfoy, I'm not joking. Listen to the tape."

The idea of Longbottom bossing me around would have been comical on any other day. But not tonight.

"Then answer my question," I insisted.

"Because it's about you, Malfoy." He stepped out onto the first step leading out of the castle. "The next tape is about you."

Nothing. My heart didn't jump. My eyes didn't flinch. I didn't breathe.

And then...

I snapped my arm back, my elbow even with my shoulder, and smashed it into the door. Longbottom turns, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen to it," he repeated calmly. "And walk with me."

With tears finally falling, I turned my head up to look at him. But he's staring over the grounds again.

I took the tape player from my pocket and opened it, removing the tape. The fifth tape. A dark blue number nine in the corner. My tape. I was number nine.

I dropped the tape back into the player and, holding it in both hands, closed it like a book.

Neville stepped out into the night air, heading for the path leading off of the grounds, towards Hogsmeade. Without looking, I ran my thumb across the top of the player, feeling for the button that brought me into the story. And then I followed him, pressing play.

_Romeo, oh Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?_

My story. My tape. This was how it began.

_Good question, Juliet. And I wish I knew the answer._

Longbottom spoke then, loud enough to be heard over the tape, "Malfoy, it's alright!"

I guess I was still crying.

_To be totally honest, there was never a point where I said to myself, Draco Malfoy... he's the one._

Just hearing my name, the pain in my head doubled. I felt an agonizing twist in my heart.

_I'm not even sure how much of the real Draco Malfoy I got to know over the years. Most of what I knew was second-hand information, his reputation, the rumors... and then there was the war, when I think that his family and their beliefs were largely responsible for his actions. _

_Most of you listening will probably scoff at that. But think about these facts: Draco did not kill Dumbledore. He was supposed to. Dumbledore hoped he would. But he didn't. He never killed anyone. He lied to Bellatrix Lestrange, to all of the Death Eaters, and said that he couldn't tell if it was really Harry that was brought to Malfoy Manor. He did not torture me there, though he was present when it happened. _

_And how many of you could stand up to your whole family in such a serious situation? And even if you could, how many of you could defy a person who would harm your family if you did? You would either obey your parents, or try to protect them. I would hope that most of you would be guilty of one of these actions. _

_Yes, he acted like a right git through most of our school years. A pretentious little prat who believed he was better than everyone. But wasn't he raised that way? We were children. All of us, children. We went through all of that..._

Her voice was choked now, and for that I still couldn't stop crying.

_And we were just children. _

She cleared her throat determinedly.

_After the war, I wanted to get to know him better. Because we were children, and we'd all made mistakes. And people were just so unforgiving. You have to forgive to heal. Hate just festers, and I was rotting inside. So yes, wanting to forgive Draco was actually largely a selfish desire on my part. But there you have it. _

_And once I did talk to him, I noticed he wasn't quite the same person. And it was one of those things that, once I noticed it, I couldn't stop noticing it. _

I'd finally managed to get a hold of myself. I wasn't crying anymore, at least, though there was still a lump in my throat, reminding me that it could start again at any time.

_I hope this tape doesn't make you want to find reasons to continue hating him. He has his faults, and I understand that a lot of people aren't ready to forgive yet. _

_But wait, isn't that what I'm doing? I'm setting him up as changed, as redemed, as a victim, only to tear him down. I, Hermione Granger, was just waiting for that final damning flaw that was completely his. And I found it. And now I can't wait to tell everyone what it is and ruin him for good._

_Well... no._

My chest relaxed, freeing a breath of air that I didn't know I had been holding.

_And I hope that you're not disappointed. I hope that, despite everything, you still want to believe the best in people and that people aren't all bad. And I hope that you aren't just listening – salivating – for gossip. I hope these tapes mean more to you than that. _

_Draco, honey, your name does not belong on this list. _

I nearly sobbed at that. It was almost worse, this way. Her saying I wasn't at fault, that I didn't belong, but having to listen to it... to her... anyway.

I breathed in deep, letting the cold night air fill my lungs. Maybe I could keep it together. Maybe. I would try.

_You don't belong in the same way as the others. It's like that song: One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong._

_And that's you, Draco. But you need to be here if I'm going to tell my story. To tell it more completely. _

I stopped the tape and turned to Longbottom. We were about a quarter of the way up the path now, and he was looking determinedly ahead, into the darkness.

"Why do I have to hear this?" I asked, almost embarrassed at the note of desperation in my voice. "Why didn't she skip me if I don't belong?"

Longbottom kept walking. If he looked anywhere other than straight ahead, I didn't catch it.

"I would've been happier never hearing this," I said.

Longbottom shook his head. "No. It would drive you crazy not knowing what happened to her."

I stared at the path ahead, winding up to the small shining lights of Hogsmeade in the distance. And I realized he was right.

"Besides," he said, "I think she wanted you to know.

Maybe, I thought. But why? "Where are we going?"

He still didn't answer that, and I didn't really expect him to. I pressed play.

_Yes, there are some major gaps in my story. Some parts I just couldn't figure out how to tell. Or couldn't bring myself to say out loud. Events I haven't come to grips with... that I'll never come to grips with. And if I never have to say them out loud, then I never have to think them all the way through. _

_But does that diminish any of your stories? Are your stories any less meaningful because I'm not telling you everything?_

No_._

_Actually, it magnifies them. _

_You don't know what went on in the rest of my life. At home. Even at school. You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person's life, you're not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can't be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part, you're messing with the entire thing. _

_Everything... affects everything._

_The next few stories are centered around one night. _

That night.

_They're centered around our night, Draco. And you know what I mean by our night because, through all of the years we've spent going to the same school, or fighting in the same war, there's only one night when we connected._

_When we really connected._

_That night drags many of you into the story as well... one of you for a second time. A random night that none of you can take back. _

I hated that night. Even before these tapes, I hated it. That night, I ran to tell a witch that her husband was fine. Everything was going to be fine. But I was lying. Because while I was running to comfort his wife, the other wizard was dying.

And the first wizard, by the time he got back to this wife, he knew it.

_Hopefully, no one will hear these tapes except for those of you on this list, leaving any changes they bring into your lives completely up to you. _

_Of course, if these tapes, or the memories, do get out, you'll have to deal with consequences completely out of your control. So I sincerely hope you're passing them on._

I glanced at Longbottom. Would he really do that? Could he? Would he give those memories to someone not on the list?

Who?

_For some of you, those consequences may be minimal. Maybe shame. Or embarrassment. But for others, it's hard to say. A lost job? Jail time? _

_Let's keep this between us, shall we?_

_So Draco, I wasn't even supposed to be at the Three Broomsticks that night. I was invited to the party, but I wasn't supposed to be there. My grades were slipping pretty fast, for the first time ever, and I should have stayed in and studied. _

We were maybe halfway there, now. And still, Longbottom kept his eyes straight ahead. Did he want to avoid seeing me cry? Because he didn't have to worry, I wasn't. Not right then.

_But I heard that you would be there. _

_What? Draco Malfoy at one of the interhouse parties at the Three Broomsticks? Unheard of._

I didn't usually go. Actually, that was the only night I went all year, although those parties were pretty frequent, and Blaise tried pretty hard to get me to go. Most of the people who would go hated me, and I had no desire to be treated like a leper all night.

_Not only was that my first thought, it's what the people around me were talking about, too. No one could figure out why you had suddenly decided to show your face, as they phrased it. Of course they had a few theories, most of them bad, but well... we all know how accurate gossip tends to be. They weren't happy about it, though. _

What did you expect, Hermione?

_Most of you know the parties that I'm talking about, as you've all been to at least one. The date of this one is not important. But it was only a couple of weeks ago now. _

_So now you know. Now some of you know exactly where you fit in. But you'll have to wait until your name pops up to hear what I'm going to tell. To hear how much I tell. _

_That night, I decided that walking to the party alone would be nice. Relaxing. We had a lot of rain that week, and I remember the clouds were hanging low and thick. The air was warm for that time of night, too. My absolute favourite type of weather. _

Mine, too.

_It's funny. Walking by the stores and houses on my way to the party, it felt like life held so many possibilities. Limitless possibilities. And for the first time in a long time, I felt hope. _

So did I. I forced myself out of the house and to that party. I was ready for something to happen. Something exciting. Good or bad. Maybe a new beginning.

_Hope? Well, I guess I misread things a bit._

And now, knowing what happened between Hermione and me, would I have still gone? Even if nothing changed?

_It was simply the calm before the storm. _

I would. Yes. Even if the outcome stayed the same.

_I wore a skirt, which was odd for me when I was out of uniform. I usually favoured jeans. But I wanted to look pretty, and girly, and maybe a little appealing._

_I left out the back way from the castle – we all did, because it was after curfew. To get to Hogsmeade, I had to walk past the bench by the greenhouses – the first star on your map. And for some reason, in that moment, as I looked at the bench, now overgrown and unserviceable, the air felt heavy. Filled with loneliness. And that loneliness stayed with me through the rest of the night. _

_Even the best moments of the night were affected by that one incident – by that nonincident – as I passed the bench. Though I had a history there, it didn't matter. You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were._

_All you really have... is now. _

Those of us on the tapes, we couldn't go back, either. We could never _not _find a package landing in front of us at breakfast. From that moment on, we would be different.

_Which explains my overreaction, Draco. And that's why you'll get these tapes. To explain. To say I'm sorry. _

Did she remember? Did she remember that I apologized that night? Is that why she was apologizing to me?

_The party was well underway by the time I got there. Most people, unlike me, had left before curfew to save effort. _

_The usual crowd hung out by the door, drunk out of their minds, greeting everyone with a raised glass. I expected that Hermione would be an easy name to slur, and these guys did not disappoint. Half of them kept repeating it, trying to get it right, while the other half laughed._

_But they were harmless. Fun drunks make a nice addition to any party. Not looking to fight. Not looking to score. Just looking to get drunk and laugh. _

I remembered those guys. Like the mascots of the party. "Draco! Whatchoo doon here? Bah-ha-ha-ha!"

_The inside of the Three Broomsticks was loud, and there was music but no one was dancing. It could have been any party... Except for one thing._

_Draco Malfoy._

_I'm sure you heard a lot of sarcastic remarks when you first arrived, but by the time I got there, to everyone else you were just a fact of the party. But unlike everyone else, you were the reason I came. _

_With everything going on in my life – going on in my head – I wanted to talk with you. Really talk. Like we did after Potions sometimes, but away from school, from classes, the dim, dank dungeons. Just once. A chance we never got at school. A chance to find out who you were._

We didn't get that chance because I was afraid. Afraid that someone like me had no chance with someone like her. That someone like me would mess it up with someone like her... or mess up someone like her.

That's what I thought. And I was fine with that. Because what if she got to know me and I turned out to be just like they said, at the heart of it all. What if I wasn't the person she hoped I would be?

That, more than anything, would have hurt the most. For both of us, probably.

_And as I stood at the bar, waiting to order, you walked up behind me._

"_Granger... Hermione," you corrected yourself uneasily, and I turned toward you. "Hey."_

When she arrived, when she walked through the door, she caught me off guard. And like an idiot, I turned around, hurried to the back door, and straight out into the alley.

It was too soon, I told myself. I went to the party telling myself that if Hermione Granger showed up, I was going to talk to her. It was time. I didn't care who was there, I was going to keep my eyes focused on her and we were going to talk.

But then she walked in and I freaked out.

_I couldn't believe it. Out of the blue, there you were. _

No, not out of the blue. First I paced around the alley, cursing myself for acting like such a scared child. Then I walked back out onto the main road, fully intent on walking back to the castle.

But once I reached the path, I cursed myself some more. Then I walked back to the Three Broomsticks. The drunk students greeted me again, and I went straight to you.

It was anything but out of the blue.

"_I don't know why," you said, "but I think we need to talk."_

It took all of the nerve in the world to keep that conversation going. Nerve, and two tall firewhiskeys.

_And I agreed, with probably the dumbest smile plastered on my face. _

No... the kindest... maybe the most beautiful. But not the dumbest.

_Anyway, you waited while Madam Rosmerta made my drink, and asked if then would be a good time to talk. _

_Please, don't read into that, any of you who are listening. Yes, it sounds all smooth and get-the-girl-smashed, but it wasn't. It didn't seem that way to me. _

It wasn't. No one will buy it, most likely, but it wasn't.

_Because if that was the case, he would have encouraged me to drink a bit more first._

_So we found a table, which already had two people occupying it. _

Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.

_But there weren't any other open tables, so we sat down – those two were a bit past noticing us, anyway. And what was the first thing we did? We set down our drinks, and started talking. Just... like... that. _

So she had known it was them. She hadn't given any sign, any indication, that she noticed that it was Potter and Weasley. Her best friend kissing the girl who slapped her, right there, four years earlier, over an article about him. Of course, he probably hadn't known about that, and everyone knew they had become a couple over the years. It was like Hermione couldn't escape her past.

_Everything I could have hoped for was happening. The questions were personal, as if catching up for the time we let pass. Yet the questions never felt intrusive. _

Her voice, if physically possible, came through the headphones feeling warm, somehow. I pressed my hands over them, over my ears, to keep her words from escaping.

_And they weren't intrusive. Because I wanted you to know me. _Me. _Not the Granger of rumours, or the Granger of legend. _

It was wonderful. I couldn't believe Hermione and I were finally talking. Really talking. And I didn't want it to stop.

I loved talking with you, Hermione.

_It seemed like you could know me. Like you could understand anything I told you. And the more we spoke, I knew why. The same things excited us. The same things concerned us. _

You could have told me anything. That night, nothing was off limits. I would've stayed until you opened up and let everything out, but you didn't.

_I wanted to tell you everything. And that hurt because some things were too scary. Some things even I didn't understand. How could I tell someone – someone that I was really talking to for the first time – everything that I was thinking?_

_I couldn't. It was too soon._

It wasn't.

_Or maybe it was too late._

But you're telling me now. Why did you wait until now?

Her words weren't warm anymore. She might have wanted me to hear them that way, but they were burning me up instead. In my mind, and in my heart.

_Draco, you kept saying that you knew things would go well between us, if we could move past what had happened over the years. You felt that way for a long time, you said. You knew that we would get along, if we could do that. That we would connect. _

_But how? You never explained that. How could you know? Because I knew what people said about me. I knew what you had said about me, over the years. The things you said, and did. Petty, childish things. I heard all the rumours and lies and speculation that would always be a part of me._

I knew they weren't true, Hermione. I mean, I hoped they weren't true. But I was too afraid to ask, to find out.

_I was breaking. If only I'd talked to you sooner. We could have been... we could've... I don't know. But things had gone too far by then. My mind was set. Not on ending my life. Not yet. It was set on floating though school, what was left of it. On never being close to anyone, anymore. That was my plan. I'd finish school, and then I'd leave._

_But then, I went to a party. I went to a party to meet you._

_Why did I do that? To make myself suffer? Because that's what I was doing – hating myself for waiting so long. Hating myself because it wasn't fair to you. _

The only thing that's not fair are these tapes, Hermione, because I was there for you. We were talking. You could have told me anything. I would have listened to absolutely anything.

_The couple sitting at the table with us, the girl was drunk and laughing and bumping into me every so often. Which was funny at first, but it got old really fast._

Why isn't Hermione saying her name?

_I started to think maybe she wasn't so drunk after all. Maybe it was all a show for the guy she was with... Maybe it was a hint that she wanted us to leave the table for the two of them alone._

_So Draco and I left._

_We walked around the party, shouting above the deafening noise everywhere we went. Eventually – successfully – I spun the conversation around. No more big and heavy topics. We needed to laugh. But everywhere we went it was too noisy to hear each other. _

I remembered everything that happened next. I remembered it perfectly. But how did she remember it? How did it play out in her penseive?

_While we were standing there, our backs against the door frame, drinks in hand, we couldn't stop laughing. _

_And yet the loneliness that I entered the party with came rushing back._

_But I wasn't alone. I knew that. For the first time in a long time, I was connecting – connected – with another person from school. How in the world was I alone?_

You weren't. I was there.

_Because I wanted to be. That's all I can say. It's all that makes sense to me. How many times had I let myself connect with someone just to have it thrown back in my face?_

_Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful. Much, much more painful than the others._

There was no way that was going to happen. I wasn't going to let it happen.

_So there you were, letting me connect with you. And when I couldn't do that I anymore, when I pulled the conversation to lighter topics, you made me laugh. And you were shockingly hilarious, Draco. You were just what I needed._

_So... I kissed you._

No, I kissed you, Hermione.

_A long and beautiful kiss. _

_And what did you say when we came up for air? With the smallest smirk, you asked, "What was that for?" _

Right then. You kissed me.

_To which I said, "You're such an idiot." And we kissed some more. _

An idiot. Yes, I remembered that, too.

_Eventually we made our way upstairs, to the rooms that Madam Rosmerta would rent out to travelers from time to time. We found a vacant one, and then we were on one side of the door, and the rest of the party, with its loud but muffled music, was on the other. _

Amazing. We were together. That's what I kept thinking the whole time. Amazing. I had to concentrate just to keep that word from spilling out of my mouth.

_Some of you may be wondering why you never heard about this. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy? Surely people would have been _dying _to spread that story. And you always found out who I was making out with._

Because I never told. I never told anyone.

_Wrong. You only thought you found out. Haven't you been listening? Or did you only pay attention to the tape with your name on it? Because I can count on one hand – yes, one hand – how many people I've kissed. But you, you probably thought I'd need both hands and both feet just to get started, right?_

_What's that? You don't believe me? You're shocked? Guess what... I don't care. The last time I cared what anyone thought about me was that night. And that was the last night. _

I had to force myself to keep walking now, to keep up with Longbottom as we got closer to Hogsmeade. I clenched my teeth, trying hard not to scream.

But I did scream, the sound ripping through the still night. Longbottom didn't flinch, didn't turn around.

He just kept walking.

_Now get comfortable, because I'm about to tell you what happened in that room between Draco and I. Are you ready?_

_We kissed. _

_That's all. We kissed._

I looked at the tape player in my hands, breathing hard, trying to calm my nerves, to keep from screaming again. I was too dark to see the spindles behind the plastic window, pulling the tape from one side to the other, but I needed to focus on something, so I tried. And concentrating on the spot where the two spindles should be was the closest I got to looking into Hermione's eyes as she told my story.

_It was wonderful, both of us lying on the bed. One of his hands resting on my him, his other arm cradling my head like a pillow. Both of my arms hugging him, trying to pull him closer. And speaking for myself, I wanted more._

That's when I said it. That's when I whispered to her, "I'm so sorry." Because inside, I felt so happy and so sad at that same time. Sad that it took me so long to get there, but happy that we got there together.

_Those kisses felt like first kisses. Kisses that said I could start over if I wanted to, with him. We could start over together._

_But start over from what?_

_And that's when I thought of you, Viktor. For the first time in a long time, I thought of our first kiss. My real first kiss. I remembered the anticipation leading up to it. I remembered your lips pressed against mine. _

_And then I remembered how you ruined it._

"_Stop," I told Draco, and my hands stopped pulling him in. _

You pushed your hands against my chest. You pushed me away.

_Could you feel what I was going through, Draco? Did you sense it? You must have._

No. You hid it. You never told me what it was.

_I shut my eyes so tight it was painful, trying to push away all that I was seeing in my head. And what I saw was everything on this list... and more. Everyone up to that night. Everyone who caused me to be so intrigued by Draco's reputations, when you compared them with mine. How his was so different than mine._

No, we were the same.

_And I couldn't help that. What everyone thought of me was out of control. _

_Draco, your reputation... It wasn't true. Like I said, you were a child. We were all children. But mine... Mine was... Crazy. The good and the bad, they just battled it out inside of me, and around me, with everything everyone whispered. And there I was, with you. Adding to my reputation._

But it wasn't like that. Who was I going to tell? Even if I had someone to tell, why would I tell?

"_Stop," I repeated. This time I moved my hands to your chest and pushed you away. I turned to the side, burying my face in the pillow._

_You started to talk, but I made you stop. I asked you to leave. You started to talk again and I screamed. I screamed. I screamed into the pillow. _

_And then you stopped. You heard me._

_The bed lifted on your side as you got up to leave the room. But it took you forever to leave, to realize that I was serious._

I was hoping that you'd tell me to stop again. To stop leaving.

_Even though my eyes remained shut, buried in the pillow, the light changed when you finally opened the door. It grew brighter, and then it faded again... and you were gone._

Why did I listen? Why did I leave her there? She needed me, and I knew that.

But I was scared. Once again, I let myself get scared.

_And then I slid off the bed and down to the floor. I just sat there beside the bed, hugging my knees... and crying._

_That, Draco, is where your story ends._

But it shouldn't have. I was there for you, Hermione. You could have reached out but you didn't. You chose this. You had a choice and you pushed me away. I would have helped you. I wanted to help you.

_You left the room, and we never spoke again. _

Your mind was made up. No matter what you said, it was set.

_In the corridors, you tried catching my eye, but I always looked away. Because that night, when I got back to my room, I tore a page from my notebook and wrote down one name after another after another. The names in my head when I stopped kissing you._

_There were so many names, Draco. Three dozen, at least._

_And then... I made the connections._

_I circled your name first, Viktor. Then I drew a line from you to Rita. I circled Rita and drew a line to Ginny, bypassing names that didn't connect – that just floated there – incidents all by themselves._

_My anger and frustration with all of you turned into tears and then back to anger and hate every time I found a new connection. _

_And then I reached Draco, the reason I went to the party. I circled his name and drew a line... back. Back to a previous name. _

It was Harry. I just had this feeling, he had to be on these tapes somewhere, didn't he?

_In fact, Draco, soon after you left and shut the door... that person reopened it. _

Granger had said that he didn't have a tape of his own, and she had made it a point not to name him earlier. It had to be him. He was at the party, at the table with Ginny.

_But that person has probably already received these tapes. So, Draco, just skip him when you pass them on. I'm not going to say his name, but I'm sure you'll know who I'm talking about. In a roundabout way, he caused a new name to be added to this list. And that's who should receive the tapes from you._

_And Draco... I'm sorry, too._

I stopped the tape. My eyes stung. Not from crying, but because I hadn't closed them since hearing that Hermione cried when I left the room.

Every muscle in my neck burned to turn away. To look away from the end of the path, just a few feet ahead of us, and the main street of Hogsmeade. But I couldn't bring myself to move, to break the effect of her words.

I let myself drop to sit on the ground by the path, unable or unwilling to go any further just yet – I wasn't sure which. Maybe both. Longbottom stopped walking and looked down at me.

"You alright?" he asked. I didn't answer him, just letting my head fall to my knees. I took a few steadying breaths and slowly shook my head no.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

I raised my head again, looking up at Longbottom. "I miss her," I said, my voice thick.

"I miss her, too," he said after a moment. He was looking down at the ground instead of at me. Was he crying? Or maybe trying not to cry?

"The thing is," I said, "I never really missed her until now."

He shifted from foot to foot and then looks at me, finally, but didn't say anything.

"I didn't know what to make of that night. Everything that happened. I'd liked her for awhile, from far away, but I never had a chance to tell her." I looked down at the tape player. "We only had one night, and by the end of that night, it seemed like I knew her even less than before. But now I know. I know where her mind was that night. Now I know what she was going through."

I stopped talking when my voice broke, and the break came with a fresh flood of tears.

Longbottom didn't respond. He looked out over the grounds, everything but the castle nearly indiscernible in the late-night darkness, and then back towards the village. He allowed me to just sit there on the ground and miss her. To miss her each time I pulled in a breath of air. To miss her with a heart that felt so cold by itself, but so warm when thoughts of her coursed through me.

I wiped the cuff of my robes under my eyes and force out a choked laugh. "Thanks for listening to all of that," I said. "Next time, it's fine to stop me."

Longbottom turned away once more, letting me clamor to my feet once more, and then started off once more towards the main street. He didn't look at me again.

"You're welcome," he said.

/

**AN**: There are certain things that are off in this chapter, if you read the original book, but it was how it worked best, because if I followed the pattern of the original, I couldn't figure out any way to make it make sense that Ginny was with Krum. So I apologize for that. I hope it read well, regardless.

The next chapter is a bit heavy, and may be hard for some of you to read. When it is posted, it will have a warning up. Please read this carefully and proceed with discretion. Look for it by Saturday morning!

Well, please review if you have a moment! Nothing brightens my day quite like hearing from you guys! And I'll see you next chapter!

**Thoughts on casting Neville as Tony**: It doesn't match up perfectly, like most of the major players, because Neville is not a muggleborn. In Asher's novel, Hannah got her tape recorder from Tony. Obviously this wouldn't be the case in the mash-up. But in every other way, and especially his personality, and the way he treats Draco, it matches. Other characters considered for the part included Dean Thomas, because he's muggleborn, and Harry, for obvious reasons. Harry was ruled out for reasons that will become evident in the next chapter.


	11. Cassette 5, Side B

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Eleven**: Cassette 5, Side B

**AN**: Well. I didn't mean to post this tonight, I just meant to upload it to the manager so that I could do my final edits and have it ready to go tomorrow morning, but I went on auto-pilot and updated. I'm not going to take it down, because there's really no need to, but know that this was the chapter I promised for tomorrow morning. :)

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE HERE! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING AND SHOULD BE CONSIDERED CAREFULLY BY EACH READER BEFORE CONTINUING!

**Non-con/Rape –** witnessed, not experienced. While not graphic, it is described intensely, and for victims sometimes dealing with the emotional aspect of the crime is harder than the details of the act. If you are sensitive to anything of this nature, SKIP THIS CHAPTER. You will not lose much from the story, and I will put in a note at the beginning of the next chapter to bring you up to speed, in less detail.

Having said that, if you decide to continue with this chapter, please do not give me any flack in your reviews or messages, as you have been fairly warned.

Thanks so much to **embirsiphonelilathia**, **ashley4948**, **The Forgotten Child**, **Noodles2**, **Chewy518**, **DramioneLover123**, **love-them-all10**, **angelzrfree**, **EnidBarb**, **gillianlu**, **devilshalo98**, **kumagers54**, and **Morgan **for reviewing the last chapter! I loved hearing from you all!

/

It felt like we must have walked the path ten times over in the time since we left the castle, like we were stalling for time.

"Were you at the party?" I asked.

Longbottom looked to the side, off of the path, and clears his throat softly. "No," he finally answers shortly. "Are you alright, Malfoy?"

Impossible to answer. Because no, I didn't push her away, I didn't add to her pain or do anything to hurt her. Instead, I left her alone in that room. The only person who might have been able to reach out and save her from herself. To pull her back from wherever she was heading.

I did what she asked and left. When I should have stayed.

"No one blames me," I whispered. I needed to hear it said aloud. I needed to hear the words in my ears and not just in my head. "No one blames me."

"No one," Longbottom said, his eyes still focused straight ahead.

"What about you?" I asked as we approached the fork intersecting the main road of the village. For a moment, from the corner of his eye, he looked at me. Then he returned his gaze to the road.

"No, I don't blame you," he said.

"But why you?" I asked. "Why did she give you those memories?"

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," he said. "I'll tell you there."

"You can't tell me now?"

"I'm trying to focus on the way," he said, smiling weakly.

I didn't say anything else, just pressed play again and followed after him.

_Soon after Draco left, the couple from downstairs walked into the room. Actually, stumbled into the room is more accurate. Remember them? I thought she was acting drunk, bumping into me so we'd get up and leave. Unfortunately, it wasn't an act. She was four sheets to the wind._

I passed them in the hall. One of Ginny's arms was draped over Harry's shoulders. The other one groped for the wall to steady herself.

_Of course, I didn't actually see them come in. I was still on the floor, my head back against the far side of the bed, and it was dark. _

When I walked out of the room, I felt so frustrated. So confused. I leaned against the bar, almost needing it to hold myself up. What should I do? Stay? Leave? But where would I go?

_Her boyfriend kept her from stumbling too hard into the nightstand. And when she rolled off the bed... twice... he lifted her back up. Nice guy that he is, he kept the laughter to a minimum._

_I thought he would tuck her in and shut the door behind him as he left. And that would be the perfect time for my getaway. End of story. _

Hermione wasn't my first kiss, but the first kiss that mattered; the first kiss with someone who mattered. And after talking with her for so long that night, I assumed it was just the beginning. Something was happening between us. Something right. I felt it.

_But that's not the end of the story. Because that wouldn't make for a very interesting tape, would it? And by now, I'm sure you knew it wasn't the end._

Still, with no destination in mind, I left the party.

_Instead of leaving, he started kissing her._

_I know, some of you would have easily stayed for such an amazing voyeuristic opportunity. A close encounter of the sexual kind. Even if you never saw it, at least you'd hear it. _

_But two things kept me down on that floor. Well, there were a few more – a few more personal between myself and the other two – but only two that really matter for these tapes. _

_With my forehead pressed against my knees, I realized how much I must have had to drink that night. And with my balance not what it should have been, to run across the floor felt a little hazardous. So that's one excuse._

_Excuse number two is that things seemed to be winding down up there. Not only was she drunk and clumsy, she seemed to be pretty unresponsive. From what I could tell, it didn't go beyond kissing. And it seemed to be one-sided kissing at that. _

_Again, nice guy that he is, he didn't take advantage of the situation. He could have. He tried for the longest time to get a reaction out of her. "Are you still awake? Are you okay?" And her name, over and over again. _

_The girl wasn't totally passed out. She grunted and groaned a bit._

_He realized – finally – that she wasn't in a romantic mood and probably wouldn't be for a while. So he tucked her in and said he'd check on her in a bit. Then he left. _

_At this point you might be wondering, who are these people? Hermione, you forgot to tell us their names. But I didn't forget. If there's one thing I still have, it's my memories._

_Which is too bad. Maybe if I forgot things once in a while, we'd all be a little bit happier._

The mist was heavy when I left the party, and as I wandered through the village, it started to drizzle, and then rain. But when I first started walking it was just a thick mist that made everything hazy.

_No, won't be getting the names on this one. Both because this is not just my story, and it's her choice if she wants to be known as _that girl_, and because of another reason that should become obvious when I finish the story._

_But he remembers... I know he does._

_I would love to see his face right now, because he will probably be listening. His eyes shut tight. Jaw clenched. Fists pulling at his hair. _

_And to him I say, deny it! Go on, deny that I was ever in that room. Deny that I know what you did. Or not what you did, but what you didn't do. What you allowed to happen. Rationalize why this tape isn't actually about you. That's fine, but know that I'm not omitting that name to protect you. It's to protect her. _

_I know that you were tired. Tired of always being the hero, of coming to the rescue. I know that you were having a hard time, and that you were to the point that you didn't know how to do it anymore. I know, because I am, too. But is that your best excuse for what happened? Or is that your only excuse?_

_Either way, there's no real excuse._

_I stood up, stabilizing myself with one hand on the bed. _

_Your shoes – the shadow of your shoes – were still visible in the light coming under the door. Because when you left the room, you did take up post right outside. And I let go of the bed and started walking toward that sliver of light, not sure what I'd say to you when I opened the door._

_But halfway there, two more shoes came into view... and I stopped._

When I left, I just walked all around Hogsmeade, not wanting to go back to the castle.

_The other person told you that someone was looking for you downstairs, and you told him that you were keeping watch because your girlfriend was resting in the room._

_I saw a closet – its accordion doors halfway open. Meanwhile, the other guy was convincing you that whatever so-and-so had to tell you was really important. He would watch the room until you got back, he said. _

_I waited, heart pounding, trapped in the middle of that room. _

"_Just relax," he told you. "Trust me, she probably won't wake up. She'll never know you were gone."_

_And that's all it took for you to walk away, to leave her there with him to guard her._

God.

_I couldn't believe it. And he couldn't believe it, either, because it was a minute after you walked away before he opened the door. He waited for you to think better of it, and come back. And I guess, in retrospect, that you did. But not before he was in the room. _

_In that brief minute, as you walked away, I fell on my knees, sick, covering my mouth with both hands. I stumbled toward the closet, tears blurring the light from the hall. I collapsed into that closet, a pile of clean linens stacked there catching me._

_When the door did open, I pulled the closet doors shut. I shut my eyes tight. Blood pounded in my ears. I rocked back and forth, back and forth, beating my forehead into the pile of linens. But with the noise from the party still floating upstairs, though it was muffled, no one heard me._

"Just relax." Those words, he'd said it before. It's what he always says to the people he's taking advantage of. Girlfriends. Guys. Whoever.

It's Nott. It had to be. Theodore Nott was in that room.

_And with the noise, no one heard him walking across the room. Walking across the room. Getting on the bed. The bedsprings screaming under his weight. No one heard a thing. _

_And I could have stopped it. If I could have talked. If I could have seen. If I could have thought about anything. I would have opened those doors and stopped it._

_But I didn't. And it doesn't matter what my excuse was. That my mind was in a meltdown is no excuse. I have none. I could have stopped it – end of story. But to stop it, I felt like I would have to stop the entire world from spinning. Like things had been out of control for so long that whatever I did hardly mattered anymore._

_And I couldn't stand all of the emotions anymore. I wanted the world to stop... to end._

For Hermione, the world did end. But for Ginny, it didn't. It went on. And then, Hermione hit her with these tapes. Why? Why did she have to do that?

_I don't know how long went by with my face buried in those linens. The sound, the rhythm of the bed... it stretched on, unbroken. After a while, my throat felt so scratched. So raw and burning. Had I been screaming?_

_With my knees on the floor, I felt vibrations whenever anyone walked down the hall. That was how I knew you had returned, and how I knew you paused at the door, listening, and then walked away again. And then when footsteps fell within the room – who knows how much later – I pressed my back against the closet wall... waiting. Waiting for the doors to be torn open. To be yanked out of my hiding place. _

_And then? What would he do to me then?_

Longbottom stopped walking, and I looked up. We were at the Three Broomsticks, but we weren't going in yet. Longbottom was waiting, just waiting. Above us was a window, and behind that window, a bedroom and a closet with accordion doors where Hermione, on the night I kissed her, disappeared.

_But light from the hallway seeped into the room, into the closet, and his footsteps walked away. It was over. _

_After all, he hadn't been keeping watch very well, anyway, was he? _

_So what happened next? Well, I ran out of the room and straight down the hall. And that's where I saw you. Sitting in a room all by yourself. _

Potter.

_Sitting on the edge of a bed, with the lights turned off, there you were. _

_Sitting there, staring at nothing. While I stood in the hallway, frozen, staring at you. _

_We'd come a long way over the years. Through everything we'd faced and done, to now. _

_Did you finally snap? Was that it? Was it all finally just... too... much?_

Outside, weeks later, I threw up.

I kept my body hunched over, one hand braced against the wall of the pub for support, my head hanging over the storm gutter.

_Eventually, you seemed to focus on me. The color in your face... gone. Your expression... blank. And your eyes looked so exhausted. _

_Or was that pain that I saw there?_

"Take as long as you need," Longbottom said.

_I'm not blaming you entirely, you know. We're in this one together. We both could have stopped it. Either one of us. We could have saved her. And I'm admitting this to you. That girl had two chances, and they both – we both – let her down. _

The cool night breeze felt good on my face, cooling the sweat on my forehead and neck.

_So why is this tape about you? What about the other guy? Isn't what he did worse?_

_Yes. Absolutely yes. But the tapes need to be passed on, and if I sent them to him, they would stop. Think about it. He raped a girl and would leave town in a second if he knew... well... if he knew that we knew._

I stopped the tape. It was too much. I needed a second.

Still hunched over, I breathed in as deeply as possible. Then I held it.

And released.

Breathed. Held it.

Released.

"Why you?" I asked again after a few minutes of this. "Why do you have the memories? What did you do?"

A wizard stumbled out of the Three Broomsticks, throwing us a suspicious glance before turning and making his way down the street, away from us. We watched him disappear into the night, and it was another minute before Longbottom answered me.

"Nothing," he said. "And that's the truth." For the first time since he approached me in the kitchens, Longbottom looked me straight in the eye. And in his eyes, catching the light from a lamppost half a block away, I see tears. "Finish this tape, Malfoy, and I'll explain everything."

I didn't answer him.

"Finish it," he repeated. "You're almost done."

I pressed play.

_So what do you think of him now? Do you hate him? The boy who raped her? Do you hate him with all of your heart?_

_No. You don't. I asked you, what you thought of them. All of them, so that you wouldn't guess that I knew. And you agreed with me, that they had been just children, and nothing since the war warranted you hating them personally. _

_It must be denial. It has to be. Sure, he's known for his attitude towards girls. Sure, he goes through them like used underwear. But he's never done anything _that _bad. He wasn't even really all that involved in the war, his family hiding out through most of it. And if he acts like the same guy, if he doesn't suddenly traipse around the grounds in a Death Eater hood, then he couldn't possibly have done anything so wrong. Which means that you didn't do anything wrong, either._

_Great! That's great news. Because if he didn't do anything wrong, and you didn't do anything wrong, then I didn't do anything wrong. And you have no idea how much I wish I didn't ruin that girl's life. _

_But I did. _

_At the very least, I helped. And so did you._

_No, you're right. You didn't rape her. And I didn't rape her. He did. But you... and I... we let it happen. _

_It's our fault. _

The tape reached its end, and stopped. I took the headphones off and hung them around my ears. I wouldn't think about that story yet. I couldn't. It was too much.

"Full story," I said to Longbottom instead. "What happened?"

I swapped the tape in the player with the next one as I waited for him to begin.

**/**

**AN**: Heavy... so heavy... such a heavy, heavy chapter. That's all I can think as I finish this. At least it's a pretty short one.

We're four chapters to the end, and although I flagged this chapter as the hardest to stomach, it's just going to get worse from here on out.

If you have a second, drop me a line, although I understand that this may be a hard chapter to review.


	12. Cassette 6, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Twelve**: Cassette 6, Side A

**AN**: Okay, I know that I promised this chapter by Monday morning, and then I moved it up to Sunday, and now it's up Sunday night... But anyway, it's up, and that's what important, right? I am sorry for any confusion, though.

Moving on – if you skipped the last chapter, whatever your reasons may be, allow me to bring you up to speed: After Draco left Hermione at the Three Broomsticks, she witnessed a rape. Ginny was raped, Harry neglected to stop it, and Draco believes, although it is unconfirmed, that Theodore Nott committed it. All names were omitted from the tape, so anyone but Draco and the guilty parties wouldn't know who was involved. At the end, Hermione states, "You didn't rape her. And I didn't rape her. He did. But you... and I... we let it happen. It's our fault." The story dealt largely with her world crashing as a result of the incident, and at the end she is face-to-face with Harry.

To those of you who did read, thanks for your faves, alerts, and hits! Special thanks to **angelzrfree**, **KellaOrion**, **semantics**, **Dramionelover123**, **arianscorp**, **Noodles2**, **dreamcloud99**, **Aftermath11**, **The Forgotten Child**, **gillianlu**, **Frib**, **kumagers54**, **ashley4948**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, **Elizabeth Garrison**, and **aringle42 **for reviewing! I really enjoyed hearing your views on the events and the character's reactions!

/

Longbottom took a coin from his pocket and started sliding it between his fingers, flipping it from knuckle to knuckle. I guessed it was to keep him busy, to give him something to do other than focus on what he had to say.

"I've been trying to figure out how to say this since I saw you outside of the greenhouses. All evening, in the kitchens, on the whole walk up here... Even when you were puking over there."

"At least I didn't vomit on you, Longbottom," I scowled.

"I appreciate that," he said, smiling and looking down at the galleon in his hand.

My stomach was finally settling. I leaned my head back, breathing in deeply.

"She came to see me in the greenhouses one evening, after classes were out. Hermione did," he started. "And that was my chance."

"For what?"

"Malfoy, all of the signs were there," he said.

"I had my chance, too," I told him. I took off the headphones and hung them around my neck. "At the party. She was upset when we kissed and I didn't know why. That was my chance."

On the street, it's dark and quiet. Light filters out from the front windows of the Three Broomsticks, but other than that, the village is quiet. The world seems deep asleep.

"We're all to blame," he said. "At least a little."

"So she came to see you," I said, to get him back on track."

"Right. You were working late?"

"Yeah. It was time to repot the venomous tentaculas," he said. "Professor Sprout lets the students tend to them, but actually repotting them is a little bit to dangerous for someone who doesn't know how to handle them safely because they have this—"

"Focus, Longbottom," I said, careful not to snap, but wanting him to get on with it.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. The coin was still passing through his fingers. "Anyway, she'd never come to the greenhouses just to see me before, so I was a little surprised. But you know, we were friends, so I didn't think too much of it. What was odd, though, is when she came over."

"Why?"

He looked at the ground, sighing heavily, and then held the coin out to me. I took it hesitantly, wondering what was so special about a galleon. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that it was forged.

"That's the master coin for Dumbledore's Army. It's used to send messages, mostly dates and times of meetings to the other members," he explained. "Hermione created them when Umbridge disbanded all clubs at the school, so that we could still meet in secret. Anyway, she wanted me to have it. She said she was done with it, and that she wanted me to have it in case we'd ever need to get the DA together again.

"I asked her why she didn't give it to Harry or Ron, and she said that she thought I'd have more use for it, since they've already been accepted to the Auror's Academy. The DA is really more of a militia, you know. So then I asked her why she didn't need it, and she just shrugged. She wouldn't answer that one. It was a huge sign, and I missed it."

"Giving away possessions," I said. I knew that. Longbottom nodded.

"She said I was the only one she could think of who might need it. I'm going to stay here at Hogwarts, you know, and if anything should ever start again, she didn't want the castle to be vulnerable. That kids should never be involved in that sort of thing. And she's right, isn't she? No one knows that better than us."

I nodded, staring at the coin for another moment before handing it back to Longbottom.

"Anyway, I told her that I couldn't just take it from her, without offering something in return," he said, slipping the coin once more from knuckle to knuckle.

"What did you give her?" I asked.

"I'll never forget this," he said, looking away from me. "Her eyes, Malfoy, they never looked away. She just kept looking, straight into my eyes, and then she started crying. She just stared at me and tears began streaming down her face."

He wiped at his own eyes and then scrubbed at the rest of his face like a person trying to wake up.

"I should have done something," he said.

The signs were all there, all over, for anyone willing to notice.

"What did she ask you for?" I asked, my voice coming out choked. I swallowed hard.

"She wanted to borrow my Remembrall," he said. "She said there were some things that she needed to remember, and she wanted to know if she was missing anything. Pensieves are very subjective, you know, because they're memories. If she didn't remember something, it would just be absent in the pensieve, and the memory may even be modified organically to make up for the gap."

"And you gave it to her?" I asked.

He turned to me, his face hard. "I didn't know what she was going to do with it, Malfoy."

"I'm not accusing you. But she didn't tell you anything about what memories she was looking at?"

"If I had asked, do you think she would have told me?"

No. By the time she went to Longbottom, her mind was made up. If she wanted someone to stop her, to rescue her from herself, I was there. At the party. And she knew it.

I shook my head. "She wouldn't have told you."

"A few days later," he said, "at breakfast, an owl delivered this package to me. I took it to my room and found these fourteen vials of memories. It didn't make any sense to me."

"Did she send you a note or anything?" I asked.

"No, just the memories. But the first one, when I watched them, was different than the others. She was looking in a mirror, talking. I guess so that no matter what perspective the memory took, I would see her. She said that I would need those, and to watch out for the others, to make sure that some tapes were passed on to all of them.

"But it still didn't make any sense, because she was at all of her meals that day, and her Herbology class. So I started going through the other memories. And that's when I started to piece it together. And I went to find her. I ran into Dean, you know, he got Head Boy, and asked if she had met up with him before rounds. He asked if everything was alright, because I'm sure buy that point I seemed about crazy."

"What did you say?"

"I told him that something was wrong, and that we needed to find her. But I couldn't make myself tell him why." He takes in a weak, shuddering breath. "And then they found her... And it was too late."

I wanted to tell him that I was sorry, that I couldn't imagine what that must've been like. But then I think of tomorrow, in class, and realize that I'll find out soon enough. Seeing the other people on the tapes for the first time.

"I went back to my rooms early that day," he said. "Told Professor Sprout I was sick, you know. And I've got to admit, it took a few days to get myself together. But when I returned, Ginny looked like hell. And then Parvati. And I thought, okay, most of these people deserve it, at least a little, so I'll do what she asked and make sure you all hear what she has to say."

"But how were you keeping track?" I asked. "How did you know I had the tapes?"

"That bench, it's grown over now. No one ever goes to it. There's no reason to, anymore. But one by one, each of you on the tapes ended up there. Today, it was you. And then, in the kitchens later, I saw you with the tape player. Who would give a pureblood something like that? A gift. What a bad lie."

We both laughed, a bit. And it felt good. A release. Like laughing at a funeral. Maybe inappropriate, but definitely needed.

"So why you? Why'd she give the memories to you?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I don't know. The only thing I can think is that I gave her the Remembrall. She thought I had a stake in it and would play along."

"You're not on the tapes, but you're still a part."

Longbottom turned away from me, back towards the path to the school. "I've got to go," he said shortly.

"I didn't mean anything by that," I said.

"I know. But it's late, and I've got to be up early to trim the Devil's Snare," he said. "It's weakest when the sun first come up." I nodded. Sure. For all of us involved, life had to go on. "Where are you going to stay tonight?"

"I don't know. I'll probably go back to my room eventually, just not quite yet."

He slipped the coin back into his pocket. I wondered vaguely if he carried it with him everywhere, and whether that was for safety, or comfort.

"Do you want me to walk you somewhere?" he asked. "Before I go back to the castle?"

"This is where I'm at in the tapes," I said. "But thanks. Honestly." And when I said it, I meant it for more than just the offer. For everything. For how he reacted when I broke down and cried. For trying to make me laugh on one of the most horrible nights of my life.

I felt good knowing that someone understood what I was listening to, what I was going through. Somehow, it made it less scary to keep listening.

Longbottom nodded again, and then he was walking away. I watched the darkness of the night swallow him up around the path to the school.

I put the headphones back on, and pressed play, leaning back against the wall of the Three Broomsticks.

_Back to the party, everyone. But don't get too comfortable, we'll be leaving in just a moment._

_If there was a string connecting all of your stories, that party would be the point where everything knots up. And that knot keeps growing and growing, getting more and more tangled, dragging the rest of your stories into it. _

_When he and I finally broke that horrible, awful, painful stare, I wandered down the hall and back into the party. Staggered in, really. But not from the alcohol. From everything else._

I let myself slide down to sit on the ground, my back against the Three Broomsticks. If Madam Rosmerta or whoever else wanted to come out and ask me to leave, I welcomed it. Please do.

_I grabbed for the bar, then a stool, and I sat. I wanted to leave, but where would I go? It was time for Filch to begin his rounds, but there were no rounds scheduled for me, so I couldn't get caught out of my room. Not yet._

_And wherever I went, how would I get there? I was too weak to walk. At least, I thought I was too weak. But in truth, I was just too weak to try. The only thing that I knew for certain was that I wanted to get out of there and not think about anything or anyone anymore._

_Then a hand touched my shoulder. A gentle squeeze. _

_It was Lavender Brown. _

_Lavender, this one's for you._

I dropped my head down to my knees.

_She asked if I needed someone to walk me back to the castle, and I almost laughed. Was it so obvious? Did I look so terrible?_

_So I looped my arm in hers and she helped me up. Which felt good, letting someone help me. We walked out the front door, through the crowd there. _

Somewhere, in that moment, I was walking from block to block trying to figure out why I'd left that party. Trying to figure out, trying to understand, what had just happened between me and Hermione.

_The street was damp. My feet, numb and heavy, shuffled across the pavement. I listened to the sound of every pebble and leaf that I stepped on. I wanted to hear them all. To block out the noise behind me. _

While blocks away, I could hear that noise. Distant. Muffled. Like I couldn't get far enough away.

_Lavender, you didn't say a thing. You didn't ask me any questions. And I was grateful. Maybe you've had things happen, or seen things happen at parties that you just couldn't discuss. Not right away at least. Which is sort of fitting, because I haven't discussed any of this until now._

_Well... no... I tried. I tried once, but he didn't want to hear it. _

Was that the twelfth story? The thirteenth? Or something else entirely? Was it one of the names written on her paper that she wouldn't ever tell us about?

_So, Lavender, you led me in this way to the path back to the castle. I thought about telling you Filch's rounds schedule, that now we'd risk being caught, but I didn't. My thoughts were everywhere, and nowhere at once, and I couldn't translate any of them into actions. I just let you guide me, saying nothing, and I felt your touch. You held my arm with such tenderness as you led the way. _

_What happened next, or rather, how it happened, I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't paying close attention, and other than that, I had never seen anything like it happen before, and certainly not by accident. It was raining, and though it wasn't a heavy rain, it blurred our vision, already lowered due to the dark and the unlit path. _

_And then... the whole area around us lit up. It was you. Your wand. And you cursed, because I guess that's not what you meant to do, and it might bring attention from the castle up to the path, and signal that there were students out after curfew. _

_You cursed, and the harshness in your voice brought the world crashing back._

_We all know the spell to end lumos, don't we? Nox, right? But I guess you panicked, Lavender, because that's not what you said. _

"_Finite incantartum."_

_And normally, that would work. But again, I don't know if it was something about your energy, the way you were panicked, our proximity to the edge of the grounds, or what, but the world around us felt like it sort of bent, and then pushed back out, and then the air rippled – I could feel it. And I knew that feeling, from the war. From all of the barriers I had constructed and brought down in those years._

_You had torn down the wards on the castle, somehow._

God no.

_So now I was awake. I was alert. In my experience, nothing good happens when wards come down. _

The accident, with the old man. And the younger guy. Did Hermione know? Did she know Lavender caused it?

_I told you what had happened, what you had done, on accident. And you just sort of shrugged. _

I knew where to go. I didn't need the map. I knew exactly where the next star was, and although I could see it from where I was sitting, I stood up to start walking.

_Taking down wards, in itself, is not a life-ending thing. They can be put back up. And as far as accidental magic goes, it's just not that serious of an effect. You could have blown something up, the way Seamus always managed to. You could have... hurt something._

She knew.

_Something alive._

_And what were the first words you said? "Well, that's not good." But you didn't seem too concerned. And then you started to make your way forward again. But I dug in my heels, stopping you. I couldn't let you just walk away from that. _

At the intersection of the main street and the path from Hogwarts, that's where the Hogwarts wards end and begin, depending on what side you're on. Past that point, there is no Apparition. If you try to Apparate off of the grounds, nothing will happen. If you try to Apparate in, you'll sort of hit an invisible barrier, of sorts, and then you kind of bounce. And then you're just standing back where you started. No harm done, but you can't get in.

"_It's fine, Hermione," you said testily. You told me to be reasonable. "Dont' worry," you said. "Everyone knows you can't Apparate into or out of Hogwarts. People don't even try it anymore. It's common knowledge. And even if they did, what's the harm? The war's over, we're safe."_

_Well, Lavender, there are other dangers in the world, you know. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen. I started looking for my wand, and you asked me what I was doing._

"_I'm going to send up sparks," I said. "Signal to one of the teachers. We should at least let someone know that the wards are down."_

"_Hermione! Half of the school is out after curfew just over there!" And true, we hadn't made it far from the party. "You'll get everyone into trouble!" _

_You took my wand, and I almost decked you, Lavender. I probably would have, if I weren't so drained. It had become habit, to always have my wand, and to have it taken from me inspired panic. _

_And then you walked away, pocketing my wand, telling me you'd give it back to me tomorrow. _

_You didn't care that the wards were down. You didn't care that I felt like I could die any second without my wand, with the wards down to allow anything and everything in. You just walked away. You got away._

_In fact, you got away with much more than breaking the wards, Lavender. _

_And once again, I could have stopped it... somehow._

We all could have stopped it. We all could have stopped something. The rumors. The rape...

You.

_There must have been something I could have said. At the very, very least I could have walked back to the Three Broomsticks and borrowed someone else's wand. I could have stolen your wand, because you weren't holding on to it, and it was sticking out of your pocket for anyone to take. _

_Actually, that would have been the only problem you had, Lavender. Because you made it back in one piece. But that wasn't the problem. The wards were down, and that was the problem. _

_The eighth star on your map. Just a block from the Three Broomsticks. That's where the border of Hogwarts grounds meets Hogsmeade. That's where the wards are formed. But on that night, for part of the night, there weren't any. And someone _did_ decide to Apparate in. And someone else saw it. And startled him. And he tried to get away. But he wasn't focused. He didn't move with deliberation. _

That was what the Apparition instructor had told us... Move with deliberation. Determination, deliberation... something else. Move with deliberation to avoid...

_There were no wards on that night to avoid the whole incident. And one of them, one of the men, died._

No one knew who caused it. Not us. Not the low-ranking Aurors who had been sent to investigate.

But Lavender knew. And Hermione knew.

_I never knew the guy who Apparated in. Some people at the school did. He was an older brother of a student who had attended Hogwarts a few years back, they said. When I saw his picture in the newspaper, I didn't recognize him. _

_I didn't go to the funeral, either. I couldn't. And now I'm sure it's obvious why._

She didn't know. Not about the older man. She didn't know the details.

_But some of you were there, at his funeral. _

Walking to return a toothbrush, his wife said as we waited on her couch for the Aurors to bring him home. He had walked to the other side of the village to return their granddaughter's toothbrush. They'd been keeping an eye on her while her parents were on holiday, and she'd left it by accident. The girl's parents said there was no need to come all the way over just for that. They had extras. "But that's what he does," his wife told me. "That's the kind of person he is."

And then the Aurors came.

_For those of you who did go, let me describe was classes were like on the day of his funeral. In a word... it was quiet. About a quarter of the school took the morning off. Mostly friends of the brother still at school, and students who also had other siblings who would have been friends with him. But for those of us who did go to school, it was quiet. Dull. _

_Professor Slughorn said that funerals can be a part of the healing process. But I doubted that very much. I had been to many, since the war, and a few when I was younger, but this one was different. Because that night, there were no wards. Someone had broken them. And someone else... yours truly... could have stopped what happened. _

Two Aurors helped her husband inside, his body trembling. His wife got up and walked over to him. She wrapped him in her arms and they cried.

When I left, closing the door behind me, the last thing I saw was the two of them standing in the middle of the living room, holding each other.

_On the day of his funeral, so that those of you attending wouldn't miss any work, the rest of us did nothing. In every class, the professors gave us free time. Free to write. Free to read. _

_Free to think._

_And what did I do? For the first time, I thought about my own funeral. _

_More and more, in very general terms, I'd been thinking of my own death. Just the fact of dying. During the war, I couldn't, because admitting that you may die, truly believing it and facing it... well, for most of us that means we've lost half of the battle already. But on that day, with all of you at a funeral, I began thinking of my own. _

I reached the intersection. I stretched my hand out, pushing through the air, feeling the very slight resistance and then give as my hand passed through the wards back in place.

_I could picture life – school and everything else – continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn't imagine who would attend or what they would say._

_I truly no longer had any idea what any of you thought of me._

I don't know what people think of you, either, Hermione. When we found out, and since your parents didn't have a service at Hogwarts, or anywhere in the wizarding world, no one said much about it at all.

I mean, it was there. We felt it. Your empty desk. The fact that you would not be coming back. But no one knew where to begin. No one knew how to start that conversation. For the first time that I could remember, the students were without words.

_It's now been a couple of weeks since the party. So far, Lavender, you've done a great job of avoiding me. I suppose that's understandable. You'd like to forget what we did – what happened with us and the wards. The repercussions. _

_But you never will. _

Maybe you didn't know what people thought of you because they themselves didn't know what they thought of you. Maybe you didn't give us enough to go on, Hermione.

If not for that party, I never would have met the real you. But for some reason, I am extremely grateful that you gave me that chance. However brief it was, you gave me a chance. And I liked the Hermione that I met that night. Maybe I could have even loved her.

But you decided not to let that happen. It was you who decided.

_I, on the other hand, only have to think about it for one more day._

I turned away from the path, from the wards, and walked away.

_If I had known that guy would have gotten splinched so badly, torn completely in half, I would've borrowed someone's wand. I would have sent up sparks. I would have signaled until someone finally came, or run to the castle and found someone to tell. But I never imagined that would happen. Never. _

_So instead, I walked. But not back to the party. My mind was racing. I couldn't think straight. I could barely walk straight. _

I wanted to look back. But I kept facing forward, refusing to see it again.

_I walked down the path. Slowly, so slowly, not really planning on going back to the castle, even though that was where the path led. I was without purpose, without aim._

We walked together, that night. Different routes, different roads, but at the same time. The same night. We walked to get away. Me, from you. And you, from the party. But not just from the party, as it turns out. From yourself.

And then I heard someone shout out. "You can't Apparate there! What are you doing?" he called. And then a loud, earth-shattering scream. I turned, and the younger man fell to the ground. But something was wrong. Something about the way he was shaped... it was all wrong.

It was like Hermione said. He was splinched, torn in half, dead in an instant after he screamed. The older man ran to help. I ran to help. The man asked me to go tell his wife that he was okay, because he was supposed to be home soon.

_Eventually, though, I did come to the castle. And there was, of all people, Professor McGonagall rushing down the stairs. _

I can't follow her map anymore. I'm not going back to the castle yet.

_And I told her, I burst out with it – that the wards were down..._

_But she cut me off. She told me to calm down. And that's when I realized how hard I had been crying. How much I was struggling to catch one good breath._

I crossed the street and moved further from the Three Broomsticks.

Over the past few weeks, I had avoided the place. To avoid the reminder, the pain, of my one night with Hermione Granger. I have no desire to go in there twice in one night.

_She told me the Aurors had been alerted, that they were on their way. _

I pulled her map out of my pocket and gave it one last look.

_I was shocked. I couldn't believe you actually told someone, Lavender. But I shouldn't have been shocked. Because as it turns out, you didn't call them. _

I crumpled up her map, crushing it into a ball the size of my fist.

_At breakfast the next day, when everyone replayed the events of what happened the previous night, that's when I found out who called. And it wasn't to report the broken wards. _

I tossed the map away, and it bounced once on the street and then fell into the storm drain.

_It was to report an accident. An accident caused by the broken wards that didn't send him back to his starting point, and then by a man startling him as he tried to go back. An accident I was never aware of... until then._

_But that night, after talking to Professor McGonagall, I wandered around the castle. Because I had to stop crying. I had to calm down._

That's what I'm doing now. Staying away. I wasn't crying the night of the party, but I could barely hold it back now.

And I couldn't go back yet.

_So I walked without thinking about where I was going. And it felt good. To just not care, to just go. _

_I walked for hours, imagining the mist outside creeping in, growing thick, and swallowing me whole. The thought of disappearing like that... so simply... made me so happy. _

_But that, as you know, never happened._

There were a few moments of silence, and I waited. But it was over, her voice didn't come back, and the tape stopped.

I opened the tape player to flip the tape. I was almost at the end.

Gods. I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes. The end.

/

**AN**: This chapter is the first one that is almost nothing like the original. The bare idea is there, a bit of the narrative, but given that the original involved a car wreck and wizards don't seem to use cars often, I had to change almost all of the details. It made it a pain to write. I think it translated well, all in all, though.

After this chapter, we have just three more to go! And now is when I would like to ask you something specific, as readers! I've had a few people ask me if Hermione is really dead, or if there's any chance that she may be still alive, trying to teach a lesson, or something. Now, truly, Hermione is dead. But these questions intrigued me. Now, enough background, on to the question!

How many of you would be interested in a bonus chapter – a "fake" chapter of sorts, or an alternate ending, after everything is posted, that deals with this possibility? I'm willing to write it, but I'd like to see how many of you would even want to read it.

Review with your opinion! Time is running out to make the decision!

The next chapter will be up Tuesday morning if all goes well, Thursday morning at the latest.


	13. Cassette 6, Side B

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Thirteen**: Cassette 6, Side B

**AN**: I know, I know, "Tuesday morning, if all goes well. Thursday at the latest." And what's it now? Friday night/Saturday morning? I'm so sorry. But this week was so, so bad. Just... so bad. D: Please forgive me?

Special thanks to **crdeerw**, **NIKKIGURL**, **Rainbow-Memories**, **alison94**, **Akatsuki'sBloodyNekoNinja**, **Oceanmina101**, **Somnus Verus**, **marrilian-dragon**, **Hyruleepona**, **XxDracoEffingMalfoyxX**, **animeluver06**, **Elizabeth Garrison**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, **camou-191**, **Noodles2**, **gillianlu**, **kumagers54**, **The Forgotten Child** for reviewing the last chapter! We're over 100 reviews now! /does a stupid dance. I've loved every single one of them. Truly, thank you!

/

_Just two more to go. Don't give up on me now._

_I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up? _

_Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. And that, more than anything else, is what this all comes down to. Me... giving up... on me._

_No matter what I've said so far, no matter who I've spoken of, it all comes back to – it all ends with – me. _

Her voice sounded calm. Content with what she was saying.

_Before that party, I'd thought about giving up so many times. I don't know, maybe some people are just preconditioned to think about it more than others. Because every time something bad happened, I thought about it._

_It? Okay. I'll say it. I thought about suicide._

The anger, the blame, it was all gone. Her mind was made up. The word was not a struggle for her anymore.

_After everything I've talked about on these tapes, every thing that occurred, I thought about suicide. Usually, it was just a passing thought. I wish I would die. All of these events... the things that happened in the war... I thought about it then, too. _

_The difference is, in the war, people needed me. It wasn't just about me. If I gave up, who knew what would happen? I was part of a team, a necessary part, I thought. And that's why a lot of those events are not on these tapes, although they did hurt me. That is what makes them different, bearable. _

_But now, it was just me. _

_After, sometimes I took things further and wondered how I would do it. I would tuck myself into bed and wonder if there was anything in the room that I could use. _

_Would I curse myself? Avada kedavra? No. I didn't think I could do that. Painless as it was, supposedly, I couldn't see myself holding my wand to myself, something that I had used to protect my life so many times before, in order to end it now._

_What about hanging? Well, what would I use? Where would I do it? And if I knew what and where, I could never get beyond the visual of someone finding me – swinging – inches from the floor. _

_I couldn't do that to Mom and Dad._

So how did they find you? We knew you were in the hospital wing, but what did you look like? There were so many rumors, and I don't think a single one of them actually saw you.

_It became a sick sort of game, imagining ways to kill myself. And there were some pretty weird and creative ways. _

You took pills. Such a muggle way to kill yourself. We all knew it though. You took pills. Some say you passed out and drowned in a bathtub full of water.

_It came down to two lines of thinking. If I wanted people to think it was an accident, I would fly off somewhere, and I would crash. Maybe into the lake. I can swim, but maybe I got exhausted on the way to shore. Maybe I couldn't swim anymore. Maybe the giant squid would snatch me up, and drag me down. There are all sorts of accidents that could happen in a place like this._

_But would anyone believe I died by accident? After everything I've managed to survive?_

Others say that you drew the bathwater, but fell asleep on your bed while it was still filling. Filch spotted the water creeping out from your door on his rounds, and knocked. But there was no answer.

_Then there are these tapes._

_Can I trust the twelve of you to keep a secret? To not let my parents find out what really happened? Will you let them believe it was an accident, if that's the story that's going around?_

She pauses.

_I don't know. I'm not sure._

She thought we might tell. She thought we'd walk up to our friends and say, "Do you want to know a horrible secret?"

_So I've decided on the least painful way possible. _

_Pills. _

My stomach pulled in, wanted to rid my body of everything. Food. Thoughts. Emotions.

_But what kind of pills? And how many? I'm not sure. And I don't have much time to figure it out because tomorrow... I'm going to do it._

She paused, taking in a deep breath. It was steady. She wasn't nervous.

_I won't be around anymore... tomorrow._

I sat down on the curb by an intersection that connected the more residential area of Hogsmeade to the town.

_Tomorrow, I'm getting up, I'm getting dressed, and I'm walking to the post office. There, I'll mail a bunch of tapes to Viktor Krum. And after that, there's no turning back. I'll go to my classes, too late for Potions, and we'll have one last day together. The only difference being that I'll know it's the last day._

_You won't._

Could I remember? Could I see her in the halls on that last day? I wanted to remember the very last time I saw her.

_And you'll treat me how you've always treated me. Do you remember the last thing you said to me?_

I don't.

_The last thing you did to me?_

I smiled. I was sure of it. I smiled every time I saw you after the party, but you never looked up. Because your mind was made up.

If given the chance, you knew you might smile back. And you couldn't. Not if you wanted to go through with it.

_And what was the last thing I said to you? Because trust me, when I said it, I knew it was the last thing I'd ever say._

Nothing. You told me to leave the room that night, and that was it. You found ways to ignore me every time after that.

_Which brings us to one of my very last weekends. The weekend following the accident. The weekend of a new party. A party I didn't attend – that a few of you didn't attend. It was held in Gryffindor Tower, so the other houses attended on an invitation-only basis. _

_I took the early morning rounds for the weekend. Two in the morning, until seven, when students would start waking for breakfast. _

Even if I had thought she would be there, even if I had been invited, I wouldn't have gone. I would've stayed in my rooms.

With the way she ignored me in the halls, I assumed she would ignore me at any of the parties, too. And that was a theory too painful to prove.

_I've heard people say that after a particularly bad experience with firewhiskey, just the smell of it can make them vomit. And while this party didn't make me vomit, the sounds of it filtering out into the corridors when I did my rounds – just hearing it – twisted my stomach into knots._

_One week was nowhere near enough time to get over that last party._

_Miss Norris was going crazy, yowling and pawing at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, following me about and glaring at me when I didn't break the party up._

_Do you want to know a secret? _

I didn't know if I could handle _another _secret tonight.

_When she won't stop with that, or when we're up to something and don't want Filch to catch on, the Prefects and Head students lock Miss Norris in a broom cupboard on the second floor. _

_I locked her in there that night. The cupboard was next door to the Prefect's bathroom, and so I picked my rounds up there. _

We almost bumped into each other, the last time I saw you. But your eyes were down so you didn't know it was me. And together, we said it. "I'm sorry."

_I knocked at the male's bathroom, and then checked it. It was empty. I went on to the girl's. That, though, was another story._

Then you looked up. You saw me. And there, in your eyes, what was it? Sadness? Pain? You moved around me and tried to push your hair away from your face. I watched you walk down the long corridor, with people knocking into me. But I didn't care.

I stood there and watched you disappear. Forever.

_The next star on your map is the Prefect's bathroom, although I wouldn't bother going, if I were you. Only one of you can get in, right Parvati?_

_No, this tape is not about Parvati... though she does play a part. But Parvati has no idea what I'm about to say, because she left just as things got going._

I stood up, brushing off the back of my robes where I had sat on the ground, and turned back towards the castle. I wasn't going to the Prefect's bathroom, but I knew where I wanted to finish these tapes.

The rose-covered bench. The scene of Hermione's first kiss.

_The corridor outside was empty, but the bathroom was not. Someone called my name, and I looked to the tub. Through the steam, over the marble edge, I could see two people. And who would they be? Theodore Nott, and Parvati Patel. _

Gods, no. This could only end one way. If anyone could shovel more shit onto Hermione's life, it was Nott.

"_What're you doing, Granger?" he asked._

How many times had I seen him, with any of his girlfriends, grabbing their wrists and twisting, treating them like property. And that was in public.

_My body, my shoulders, everything was set to walk back out. This was not worth the battle, and although Nott shouldn't have been in the girl's room, I didn't want to bother. I should have left. But my face turned towards him, to look at his face through the steam. _

"_Come join us," he said. "W'e're sobering up."_

You joined them, didn't you? You knew it was the worst choice possible. You knew that.

_I didn't trust Nott, and I didn't especially want to be around Parvati. _

_But who am I to hold a grudge?_

That's why you did it. You wanted your world to collapse around you. You wanted everything to get as dark as possible. And Nott, you knew, could help you do that. You knew better than anyone.

_I was willing to forgive you, Parvati. I do forgive you. In fact, I forgive almost all of you. But you still need to hear me out. You need to know. _

_I stepped forward, closer to the huge tub, and saw that it had been filled with thick bubbles. You couldn't see through the water, and it was up to your necks. Your heads were back, resting on the edge, your eyes shut. And the little smiles on your faces looked so inviting. _

_Parvati rolled her head my way but kept her eyes shut. "We're in our underwear," she said._

_I waited a second. Should I?_

_No... But I will. _

You knew what you were getting into.

_I undressed and climbed in, descending into the warm water. And it felt so relaxing. So comforting. I cupped the water in my hands and let it drip over my face, pushing it back through my hair. I let myself slide down, neck deep, and rested my head on the edge. _

_But with the calming water also came terror. I should not be there. I didn't trust Parvati. I didn't trust Nott. No matter what their original intentions, I knew them each well enough to know not to trust them for long. _

_And I was right not to trust them... but I was done. I was through fighting. I opened my eyes and looked up at the high ceiling. Through the steam, everything seemed like a dream. _

I narrowed my eyes as I walked, wanting to shut them completely.

_Before long, the water became uncomfortable. Too hot. _

When I opened my eyes, I wanted to be standing in front of the bench. I didn't want to see any more of the path that I walked, that Hermione walked, the night of the party.

_But when I pushed my back against the tub and sat straight up to cool my upper body, I could see my breasts through the top of the bubbles, through my thin bra. So I slid back down. _

_And Nott slid over... slowly... across the underwater bench. And his shoulder rested against mine. _

_Parvati opened her eyes, looked at us, and then shut them again._

I wanted to hit something, or scream. Anything but listen to what she was saying, where this was going.

But I wouldn't stop. I had to listen. She asked me to listen.

_Nott said my name, quietly._

_Everyone knows who you are, Nott. Everyone knows what you do. But I, for the record, did nothing to stop you. _

_You asked if I had fun at the party. Parvati said that I wasn't there, but you didn't seem to care. Instead, your fingertips touched the outside of my thigh._

I clenched my teeth, tight. It was painful to listen to. I didn't want to. I had to.

_I clenched my jaw and your fingers moved away._

"_It broke up pretty fast," you said. And just as fast, your fingers were back. _

I kept walking, kept moving forward. My nails were digging into my palms, hard, breaking skin. I didn't care.

_Your whole hand was back. And when I didn't stop you, you slid your hand across my stomach. Your thumb touched the bottom of my bra, and your pinky touched the top of my underwear. _

_I turned my head away from you, and I know I didn't smile._

_You pulled your fingers together and rubbed slow, full circles over my stomach. "Feels nice," you said. _

_I felt a shift in the water and opened my eyes for a moment. _

_Parvati was walking away._

Do you need more reasons for everyone to hate you, Parvati?

"_Remember when we were in fourth year?" you asked. _

_Your fingers made their way under my bra. But you didn't grab me. You were testing the boundaries, I guess, sliding your thumb along the underside of my breasts._

"_You didn't like me, then," you said. "Because I wasn't famous."_

_Nott, you had to see my jaw clench. You had to see my tears. Did that turn you on?_

Nott? Yes, it probably did.

"_Isn't that right?" you said, but it wasn't a question, really. You had made up your mind about what was true, just like everyone else._

_And then, just like that, I let go. My shoulders went limp. My legs fell apart. I knew exactly what I was doing. _

_Not once had I given in to the reputation that you'd all set for me back then. Not once. Even though sometimes it was hard. Even though I did like Krum, and maybe at one point I liked Harry, for a very short time. And I loved Ron, once. But I guess he's famous in his own right, isn't he? But I always said no to these people. Always!_

_Until Nott. _

_So congratulations. You're the one. I let that reputation catch up with me – I let it become me – with you. How does it feel?_

_Wait, don't answer that. Let me say this first: I was not attracted to you, Nott. Not ever. In fact, you disgusted me._

And I'm going to kick your ass, I swear it.

_You were touching me... but I was using you. I needed you, so I could let go of me, completely. _

_For everyone listening, let me be clear. I did not say no or push his hand away. All I did was turn my head, clench my jaw, and fight back tears. And he saw that. He even told me to relax._

"_Just relax," he said. "Everything will be okay." As if letting him finger me was going to cure all of my problems. _

_But in the end, I never told you to get away... and you didn't._

_You stopped rubbing circles on my stomach. Instead, you rubbed back and forth, gently, along my waist. Your pinky made its way to the top of my panties and rolled back and forth, from hip to hip. Then another finger slipped below, further down. _

_And that was all you needed, Nott. You started kissing my shoulder, my neck, sliding your fingers in and out. And then you kept going. You didn't stop there. _

_I'm sorry. Is this getting too graphic for some of you? Too bad._

_When you were done, Nott, I got out of the tub and dressed quickly, and walked back to my rooms. _

_My hours for rounds were over._

_I was done._

The tape ended, and I slowly let myself relax. Well, I let my body relax. It felt like my very soul was tensing, with anger. Anger, and something else. I didn't care to try to figure out what it was just yet. It didn't matter.

There was only one tape left, a blue number thirteen in the corner. And there was the bench, overgrown with roses, where I would spend the rest of my night.

/

**AN**: One more tape to go, and two more chapters total. Plus the alternate ending, as the feedback on that idea was one-hundred-percent affirmative.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to do individual replies last chapter! I promise to make time for them this time around, no matter what, so be sure to review! See you next chapter – hopefully Monday! :D


	14. Cassette 7, Side A

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Fourteen**: Cassette 7, Side A

**AN**: One day, I will get the hang of updating on the day I say I will. Today is not that day, though, as I am posting a day early. Haha. Well, better early than late, eh? So let's get this show on the road!

This chapter is not my favorite - that's actually the next one - but it was the one I was most excited about writing. I hope you enjoy it!

So, so much thanks to **Poptart-Freak**, **KrystyWroth**, **Hyruleepona**, **Somnus Verus**, **kumagers54**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, **Noodles2**, **TheForgottenChild**, **gillianlu**, and **arianscorp** for reviewing the last chapter.

/

As far as I could see, the grounds were empty. Even the giant squid seemed to have retired for the night, and the surface of the lake is still and smooth as glass. This was where I would listen to the last words that Hermione Granger wanted to say, before I let myself fall asleep.

A bit of light filters out from the windows of the castle, but not much, and most of the grounds, the trees lining the path to the greenhouses, and the everbloom bushes that covered the stone bench, are hidden in darkness.

I sat down, leaning against the stone bench, and pressed play on the tape player.

_One... last... try._

She was whispering. The recorder was close to her mouth and with each break in her words I could hear her breathe.

_I'm giving life one more chance. And this time, I'm getting help. I'm asking for help because I cannot do this alone. I've tried that. _

You didn't, Hermione. I was there for you, and you told me to leave.

_Of course, if you're listening to this, I failed. Or he failed. And if he fails, the deal is sealed._

My throat tightened, and I let my head rest on the stone behind me, ignoring the thorns biting into my neck, attempting to stretch out the muscles, to relieve the painful tension.

_Only one person stands between you and this collection of tapes: Professor Slughorn. _

No! He couldn't know about this!

Hermione and I both had Professor Slughorn for Potions first thing in the morning. I saw him every day. I did not want him to know about this. Not about me. Not about anyone. To bring an adult into this, a professor from Hogwarts, is beyond what I had imagined.

_Why Professor Slughorn, some of you may wonder? Why not McGonagall, or Flitwick, or one of the other professors from the Order, who I am more familiar with? Well... I can't tell them. I just can't. And Slughorn, you know, is a collector of "valuable people", and as it stands, I am a crucial third of his most prized acquisition. He should have a vested interest in my safety. I'm playing the odds here. I really am._

_So, Professor, let's see how you do._

The sound of the recorder being stuffed into something, maybe a bag, and then clasps sliding into place, locking. Then a pause.

The she knocked on a door. I was trying to picture her then, standing in the dungeons, at the door that connected the Potions classroom to Slughorn's office. Her hair was short, then, I imagined, and she'd try to push it out of her face, but it would be too short to catch behind her ear, and it would fall back. And she would wait.

And then she would knock again.

The sound of the door opening.

– _Miss Granger. Glad you made it._

The voice was muffled, but it's him. Deep, but jovial.

– _Come in. Sit down._

_Thank you._

Our Potions teacher, but also the head of Slytherin House. Granger should have gone to someone else, anyone else. Someone else would have helped her.

– _Would you like some tea?_

_I'm fine, thank you. _

– _So, Miss Granger, how can I help you? What would you like to talk about?_

_Well, that's... I don't know, really. Just everything, I guess._

– _That might take a while._

A long pause. Too long. He was trying to joke, but he was pushing her away, I knew. Perhaps he realized it, as well.

– _Miss Granger, it's alright. I've got as much time as you need. Whenever you're ready._

_It's just... Everything's so hard right now._

Her voice was shaky. It struck me that no matter what the situation, I had never heard her sound so scared, so unsure of herself.

_I don't know where to begin. I mean, I kind of do. But there's so much and I don't know how to sum it all up._

– _You don't need to sum it all up. Why don't we begin with how you're feeling today?_

_Right now?_

– _Right now._

_Right now, I feel lost, I guess. Sort of empty._

– _Empty how?_

_Just empty. Just nothing... I don't care anymore._

– _About?_

Make her tell you, Slughorn. Keep asking questions, but make her tell you.

_About everything. School. Myself. The people here..._

– _What about your friends?_

_You're going to have to define "friends"._

– _Don't tell me you don't have friends, Miss Granger. Harry? Ron?_

There was a pause, and I supposed Hermione must have been considering them, and what had come to pass between the three of them in the past few months.

_Seriously, I need a definition. How do you know what a friend is?_

– _Someone you can turn to when..._

_Then I don't have any. That's why I'm here, isn't it? I'm turning to you. _

– _Yes. You are. And I'm glad you're here, Miss Granger._

I close my eyes, letting the wind wash over my face, chill my cheeks and nose. The thorns are still digging into my neck.

_You don't know how hard it was to set up this meeting._

– _My schedule's been pretty open this week._

_Not hard to schedule. Hard to bring myself to do it._

I opened my eyes again, staring at the stars through the gaps in the trees. I imagined Hermione here, almost four years ago, staring up at that same sky, from the same spot, as she waited for Krum, for her first kiss.

– _Again, I'm glad that you're here, Miss Granger. So tell me, when you leave this office, how do you want things to be different for you?_

_You mean, how can you help? _

– _Yes._

_I guess I... I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm expecting._

– _Well, what do you need right now that you're not getting? Let's start there._

_I need it to stop. _

– _You need what to stop?_

_I need everything to stop. People. Life._

I swallowed hard. She said it, out loud. It was pretty clear. But I was listening to these tapes, so obviously Slughorn had failed to hear it. Maybe he didn't want to hear it.

– _Miss Granger, do you know what you just said?_

She knew what she said, Slughorn. She wanted you to notice what she said and help her.

– _You said you wanted life to stop, Miss Granger. Your life?_

No response.

– _Is that what you meant to say, Miss Granger? Those are very serious words, you know._

She knew every word that came out of her mouth, Slughorn. She knew they were serious words. Do something!

_I know. They are. I'm sorry._

Don't apologize! Talk to him!

_I don't want my life to end. That's why I'm here._

– _So what happened, Miss Granger? How did we get here?_

_We? Or how did _I _get here?_

– _You, Miss Granger. How did you get to this point? I know you can't sum it all up. It's the snowball effect, am I right?_

Yes. The snowball effect. That's what she'd been calling it.

– _It's one thing on top of another. It's too much, isn't it?_

_It's too hard._

– _Life?_

Another pause.

I twisted my hand into my robes, needing to hold onto something to keep myself grounded. Through the earphones, I could hear Hermione begin to cry.

– _Here, take this. An entire box of tissues just for you. Never been used._

A laugh. He got her to laugh! I felt hopeful for a moment, before remembering what it meant that I was listening to these tapes.

_Thank you._

– _Let's talk about school, Miss Granger. So I can get some idea how we – I'm sorry – how you got to this point. _

_Okay. _

– _When you think of school, what's the first thing that comes to mind?_

_Learning, I guess._

– _Well, that's good to hear._

_I'm kidding._

Now Slughorn laughs.

_I do learn here. I've learned a lot. But that's not what school has become for me._

– _Then what is it for you?_

_A place. Just a place filled with people that I'm required to be with. _

I bit my lip.

– _And that's hard for you?_

_At times. _

– _With certain people, or people in general?_

_With certain people, especially. But also... everyone._

– _Can you be a little more specific?_

I sat up straighter, relieving my back of the pressure of the stone bench, and leaned forward with my arms braced on my knees. The moon reflected off of the lake in the distance, full, almost too bright to look at.

_It's hard because I don't know who's going to... you know... get me next. Or how._

– _What do you mean, "get" you?_

_Not like a conspiracy or anything. But it feels like I never know when something's going to pop out of the woodwork._

– _And get you? Is this about the war? Because with something like that, Miss Granger, these feelings are..._

_No. It sounds silly, I know. But it's not about the war, at all._

– _Then explain._

_It's hard to explain unless you've heard some of the rumors about me. _

– _I haven't._

_Most of them started before you came here. And I guess professors are probably left out of most of the gossip._

– _That's not to say that we don't have our own gossip. _

_About you?_

He laughs.

– _It depends. What have you heard?_

_Nothing. I'm joking._

– _But you'll tell me if you hear anything._

_I promise. _

Don't joke, Slughorn. Help her. Get back to Hermione. Please.

– _When was the last time a rumor... popped up?_

_See, that's it. Not all of them are rumors._

– _Okay._

_No, listen..._

Please listen.

_Years ago there was this article written about me... And a lot of people have been reacting to it ever since._

– _When was the last time?_

I heard her pull a tissue from the box.

_Recently. At a party. I swear, one of the worst nights of my life._

– _Because of a rumor?_

_So much more than a rumor. But partly, yes._

– _Can I ask what happened at this party?_

_It wasn't really during the party. It was after._

– _Okay, Miss Granger. How about I ask you straight-forward questions, and you answer them as well as you can._

_Alright._

– _At this party that you mentioned, are we talking about a boy?_

_Yes. But again, it wasn't during the party._

– _I understand that. But we need to start somewhere._

_Alright._

He exhales deeply.

– _I'm not going to judge you, Miss Granger, but did anything happen that night that you regret?_

_Yes._

I had to hold back tears when she said that. I knew, from the last tape, that she hadn't said no, that she had let it happen, but regretting something like that...

– _Did anything happen with this boy – and you can be completely honest with me, Miss Granger – did anything happen that might be considered illegal?_

_You mean rape? No, I don't think so._

– _Why don't you know?_

_Because there were circumstances._

– _Alcohol?_

_Maybe, but not with me?_

– _Any other substances?_

_No. Just more circumstances._

– _Are you thinking of pressing charges?_

_No. I'm... no._

I exhale a full breath of air.

– _Then what are your options? _

_I don't know._

Tell her, Slughorn. Tell her what her options are.

– _What can we do to solve this problem, Miss Granger? Together._

_Nothing. It's over._

– _Something needs to be done. Something needs to change for you._

_I know. But what are my options? I need you to tell me._

– _Well, if you won't press charges, if you're not sure if you even can press charges, then you have two options._

_What? What are they?_

She sounded so hopeful. She was putting too much hope in his answers.

– _One, you can confront him. We can call him in here to discuss what happened at this party. I can call you both out of..._

_You said there were two options._

– _Or two, and I'm not trying to be blunt here, Miss Granger, but you can move on._

_You mean, do nothing?_

I gripped my robes tighter, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

– _It is an option, and that's all we're talking about. Look, something happened, Miss Granger. I believe you. But if you won't press charges and you won't confront him, you need to consider the possibility of moving beyond this._

And if that's not a possibility? Then what? Because guess what, Slughorn, she won't do it.

_Move beyond this?_

– _This is your last year of school, Miss Granger. You don't have much further to go, and then you don't have to see anyone from here that you don't want to ever again._

_You want me to move beyond this._

It wasn't a question, Slughorn. Don't take it as one. She was thinking out loud. It wasn't an option because she couldn't do it. Tell her you're going to help her!

There was a rustle.

_Thank you, Professor Slughorn._

No!

– _Miss Granger, wait, you don't need to leave._

I screamed out loud, unable to hold it in, my voice echoing through the empty grounds, across the still lake. "No!"

_I think I'm done here._

Do not let her leave!

_I got what I came for._

– _I think there's more that we can talk about, Miss Granger._

_No. I think we've figured it out. I need to move on and get over it._

– _Not get over it, Miss Granger. But sometimes there's nothing left to do but move on._

Do not let her leave that room!

_You're right. I know._

– _Miss Granger, I don't understand why you're in such a hurry to leave._

_Because I need to get on with things, Professor Slughorn. If nothing's going to change, then I'd better get on with it, right?_

– _Miss Granger, what are you talking about?_

_I'm talking about my life, Professor._

A door clicked.

– _Miss Granger, wait._

Another click, and then the buckles of her bag releasing.

Footsteps. Picking up speed.

_I'm walking out of the Potions room, and through the halls._

Her voice was clear. Louder.

_The door is closed behind me. It's staying closed._

A pause.

_He's not coming._

I pressed my face hard against my knees.

_He's letting me go._

The spot behind my eye was throbbing so hard, but I didn't touch it, don't rub it. I let it pound.

_I think I've made myself very clear, but no one's stepping forward to stop me. _

Who else, Hermione? Your parents? Me? You were not very clear with me.

_A lot of you cared, just not enough. And that... that is what I needed to find out._

But I didn't know what you were going through.

_And I did find out._

The footsteps continued, faster.

_And I'm sorry._

The tape clicked off. With my face pressed against my knees, I began to cry. If anyone were walking near the greenhouses, if Longbottom were up now, repotting the venomous tentacula, I knew they could hear me. But I didn't care if they heard me because I couldn't believe I'd just heard the last words I'd ever hear from Hermione Granger.

"I'm sorry." Once again, those were the words. And now, anytime someone said I'm sorry, I was going to think of her.

But some of us wouldn't be willing to say those words back. Some of us will be too angry at Hermione for killing herself and blaming everyone else.

I would have helped her if she'd only let me. I would have helped her because I wanted her to be alive.

The tape vibrated in the payer as it reached the end of its spool.

/

**AN**: There we have it, Hermione's last tape. It's been a harrowing journey, for sure.

**Thoughts on Slughorn as Mr. Porter**: I considered a few of the teachers, as well as Harry, for the part, but I couldn't really picture them _not_ helping Hermione. Slughorn, however, seems generally well-intentioned but largely useless, without actually being a bad guy, which fit with Mr. Porter pretty well. Also, Mr. Porter was the English teacher for the one class that Clay and Hannah had together, and in all of the books, there were only a few classes that referenced the Gryffindors and Slytherins attending together: flying, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures. In the movies, they were also in Defense Against the Dark Arts together at a few points. But Potions was the only consistent one. All in all, I'm happy with the decision.

Thoughts? Questions? I'd love to hear from you guys! Last chapter is the next one, so chances are running out for feedback! :D


	15. Cassette 7, Side B & Epilogue

**HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS  
><strong>Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Fifteen**: Cassette 7, Side B

**AN**: This chapter is actually going to contain both Side B, what little contents it had, and the epilogue, which in the original was the last chapter, entitled, "The Next Day (After Mailing the Tapes)". I hope you enjoy it! I've really enjoyed hearing from all of you over the last few weeks as I've been adapting this!

Special thanks to **Mi High Lover**, **ashley4948**, **A. Deca**, **JaspersEmotionalGirl**, **Hyruleepona**, **The Forgotten Child**, **love-them-all10**, **Noodles2**,** aringle 42**, **Somnus Verus**, **kumagers54**, and** Elizabeth Garrison** for reviewing the last chapter! So much love to you all!

/

The tape clicked over and continued playing. Without Hermione's voice, the slight static hum that constantly played beneath her words sounded louder. Over seven tapes and thirteen stories, her voice was kept at a slight distance by this steady hum in the background.

I let that sound wash over me as I sat there by the bench, my face still pressed against my knees. Everything around me disappeared. The bright moon. The swaying trees. The breeze against my skin, the fading pain in my temple. The sound of the tape winding from one spool to the next, reminded me of everything that had happened, everything that I had heard over the last day.

My breathing began to slow. The tension in my muscles started to relax.

Then, there was a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air.

I opened my eyes to the bright moonlight.

And Hermione, with warmth...

_Thank you. _

The tape stopped for the final time.

/

**Epilogue**

I fought every muscle in my body, begging me to collapse. Begging me not to go to class. To go anywhere else and hide out until tomorrow. But no matter when I went back, the fact remained, eventually I needed to face the other people on the tapes.

I approached the doors to the castle, now wide open for the day. I've walked through them so many times over the past eight years, but today it seemed like a completely different act. Everything seemed different.

I was late, that was different. I was never late for classes.

Until today.

For two reasons.

One: I waited outside the post office doors. Waited for them to open so that I could mail a shoebox full of tapes. I used a brown paper bag and a roll of spellotape to rewrap it, conveniently forgetting to add my name for the return address. Then I mailed the package to Lavender Brown, changing the way that she'll see life, how she'll see the world, forever.

And two: Professor Slughorn. If I sat there in Potions, with him writing on the board or standing at the desk at the front of the room, directing class like nothing was wrong, the only place I could imagine looking was in the middle of the room, one seat left of center.

The empty seat of Hermione Granger.

People stared at it every day. But today, for me, was profoundly different than yesterday. So I'd take my time in my room, gathering my books. And in the washroom. Or wandering through the halls.

I ascended the huge staircase off of the main hall, then down the adjacent corridor, and then down, down, down, towards the Slytherin common room. And it felt strange, almost sad, to walk through the empty halls. Each step I took sounded so lonely.

I gathered my books, and then left the room, glancing at the discarded wrappings in my trash bin before I shut the door behind me. I shook my head, leaving the common room in a hurry, out of habit. How many times had I sat there, thinking about Hermione Granger? Thinking that I would never have a chance with her.

I had no idea how she felt about me. No idea who she really was. Instead, I believed what other people said about her. And I was afraid of what they might say about me if they knew I liked her.

How many times after the party did I walk these halls, when Hermione was still alive, thinking my chances with her were over? Thinking I said or did something wrong. Too afraid to talk to her again. Too afraid to try.

And then, when she died, the chances disappeared forever.

It all began a few weeks ago, when a map slipped under my door.

I wandered what was in Hermione's room now. Is it empty? Did Filch pack everything into boxes, drop them in a storage cupboard, waiting for her parents to claim them? Or does her room remain untouched, exactly as she left it?

Up two staircases, down another, and then I'm there. I slow, looking down the corridor towards the always-empty door to Potions. Professor Slughorn's classroom. Right there, outside his door, was where I last saw Hermione Granger alive.

I stopped, turning to lean against the wall, and closed my eyes.

Who was I going to see today? Besides me, six people at the school had already heard the tapes. Six people, today, were waiting to see what the tapes had done to me. And over the next week or so, as the tapes move on, I would be doing the same thing to the rest of them.

In the distance, muffled by a wall, came a familiar voice. I slowly opened my eyes. But the voice would never sound friendly again.

"I need someone to take this to the Headmistress' office for me."

Professor Slughorn's voice crepts down the hall straight towards me. The muscles in my shoulders felt tight, heavy, and I pounded my fist against the stone wall.

A chair scraped across the stone floor, followed by footsteps leaving the classroom. My knees felt ready to crumble, waiting for the student to see me and ask why I wasn't in class. At the opposite end of the hall, footsteps were coming up the stairs.

Coming out of Slughorn's class, Blaise nodded his head at me and smiled. The student from the stairs rounded the corner into the hall, almost colliding with Blaise.

She whispered, "I'm sorry," then moved around him to get by.

Blaise looked down at her but didn't respond, just kept up his pace, moving closer to me.

"Alright, Draco?" he said. Then he laughed. "Late for class, huh?"

Beyond him, in the hallway, the girl turned. It was Luna.

The back of my neck started sweating. She looked at me, and I held her gaze for a few steps, and then she turned to keep walking.

Blaise was close now, but I didn't look at him. I motioned for him to move to the side. "Talk to me later," I said.

Last night, on the path between Hogsmeade and the castle, I left without talking to Luna. I wanted to talk with her, I tried to, but I let her slide out of the conversation. Over the years, she'd learned to do that, whether it was intentional or not. She put people off, with her way of speaking. Everyone.

I stepped away from the wall and watched her continue down the hall.

I wanted to say something, to call her name, but my throat tightened.

Part of me wanted to ignore it, to turn around and keep myself busy, doing anything, until Potions was over.

But Luna was walking away down the same stretch of hall where I watched Hermione slip away two weeks ago. On that day, Hermione disappeared into a crowd of students, allowing the tapes to say her goodbye. But I could still hear the footsteps of Luna Lovegoode, sounding weaker and weaker the further she got.

And I started walking toward her.

I passed the open door to Professor Slughorn's room and, in one hurried glance, pulled in more than I expected. The empty seat near the center of the room. Empty for two weeks and for the rest of the year. Another seat, my seat, empty for one day. A dozen faces turned towards me. They recognized me, but they didn't see everything. And there was Professor Slughorn, facing away, but starting to turn.

A flood of emotions rushed through me. Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.

I kept walking.

Luna's footsteps were growing louder. And the closer I got to her, the faster I walked, and the lighter I felt. My throat began to relax.

Two steps behind her, I said her name.

"Luna."

/

**AN**: It's over. I can hardly believe it. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from the beginning of this adaptation to now; through the sporadic updates and the excuses and the lack of explanation and replies... Wow, I suck at this. The point is, thank you! You've all made it quite the journey.

We still have the alternate ending to go, but I'd like you all to understand that this is the real ending, and that anything after this is purely for entertainment purposes to answer "what if..."

Thanks so much, and I hope to see you all again someday! Those of you lurking and waiting for the last chapter to review the story as a whole, now would be that time! I look forward to hearing from everyone, one last time!

The alternate ending will be up ASAP, but I'm not sure when exactly. It'll take longer than most chapters, I think, because it's all original work. Look forward to it! :D

Love, Anna.


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